Here I stand, head in hand... turn my face to the wall

It rains. Everywhere.
They both feel it. Well, no. It registers, nothing more... a cold reminder of what now is. They are both lost outside themselves, hiding from what lies within. Adrift, they seek solace away from all that is home. The past has been written, the future blurred in clouds unknown. Let History's pen find the manuscript. Watch it dance lightly across. Watch whisps of smoke drift up and whither into nothing.
Coming here was not unforseen, like a rain drop finding harsh reality shattering on the bridge, centimeters from the soft golden splendors of pond.
But still, their steps continue. One forward, one backward. The dance goes on...