The Rain

The rain.

For the longest while I disliked it, it ruined my perfect blow dry, it splashed muck on my clothes and sent all the creepy crawlies running helter skeltor into my room. Nothing to like there.

But of course it was never the rain in itself that I actually disliked, just the catastrophic after math it procured in my life. It took me a while to realize this.

Over the past few years I have tried to understand the rain, I have walked by her as she droned on in her various moods, sometimes rampat, word after word after word beating down on me, sometimes playful, musical almost, singing to me, cajoling me to tap my feet and sway to her rhythm.

Today, my best lady and I decided we wanted to listen to her, and so we went out to find her and maybe do a quick little waltz with her.

She took me by surprise though she did.

As soon as I stepped into the reach of the day sky, she tore her way down from the clouds and knocked me over with her wild, unapologetic burst of love.

She pelleted down on me with her freezing warmth and bore her way right to my bones. I couldn’t help but hurl over by the force she had knocked me down with, but she didn’t care, she continued to pound on me with her bullets, screaming at my dithered, lukewarm heart to feel again, to love her the way I was once capable of loving. As the strength of her passion buffeted me off the ground, she continued to render me breathless in her ineffable ways with her raging, seething embrace attack of love.

I stood there for something that felt like a short lifetime, allowing the fear of her maelstrom to consume me, and then I ran, I ran for my life because she was just too wild for me today, but she was beautiful, and she reminded me of the storms I left behind in another lifetime, and so I prayed to her before I left and told her my wishes of love.

The rain.

I cannot say I understand her, but I know if you listen, she speaks, and she is always a poet with her words.

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