Self Portrait: Evening, Lighting a Fire

I want to remember what word 
to use for rain that falls

through a curtain of sunlight; what
word to use for rain that makes one

sound when pouring on balconies, and
another for when it reminds you of eggs

beaten to a cloudy texture in the bowl.
Is there a word for loneliness in the shape

of a blade, and another for when it is
the whetstone you could press your whole

self against, because the world has not
stopped delivering wounds? Emerson wrote:

We were put into our bodies, as fire
is put into
a pan, to be carried about.

So then, if we are more than rain or
the absence of rain; if we are, as he says,

not the conveyance whether made of tin
or of beaten copper but the fire itself,

made of it, then let the damp, sputtering
sequence of days not be impediment. Let

the body sway in the world as a metal rod
ready to conduct flame, or feeling.

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