Not Swept Away

Has felt that rain on her skin, penetrating her sense, drenching into her, washing her away into the hysterical rapids...she stops to collect herself in a pensive pool in the wood sunken with wind-wearied leaves, but how will the downpour not wash her away once again? I am nothing if I do not feel, but I must reserve a that within myself to be she who feels--this will not be swept away; it will never feel a thing, though it is all that feels, and feels all.