Rain, from April to November

Hard rain, soft Clouds in the sky
to walk amongst them, I surmise
an earthly Flight, and no return
Or miniscule life, to Crash and Burn

a Blank curtain, and each Drop,
Falls Fast, brings a new thought.
Peppered against a careworn head
a saline mix, so there I tread,

not so Cold, but Cold enough.
Fateless beast, to brave the rough. 
for Where can I go, and When?
You said I'll walk with God, and then?