I love the ineffable feeling of rain.
I love the sound of rain on a roof, like a little heart beating. It’s the paradoxically constant inconsistency of it all that captures my imagination. Somehow, the sound is never quite the same, and yet, it is always the same.
It’s a freeing thing, to dance in the rain. To just whirl and twirl around, hair flying, heart racing, mind soaring. Not caring whether you’re soaked or muddy – just that you are free, and you are now.
The wind blows about, bringing secrets and stories. You scream yours out to the heavens, or maybe you just tell them in a quiet voice no more than a whisper. Someone, somewhere will hear your words. Somewhere, someone is listening to the secrets you tell.
Feeling rain on your skin. The cool water falling from the heaven, pulled down to meet the ground, incapable of resisting gravity’s pull. Drip. Drop. The sensation of the refreshing energy that seems to be send down in droves by the gods and spirits
How the storm roars and grumbles with energy, leaving us all to concede to its potency. The winds howl and the rain pours and the hurricane storms. Still, there is a beauty in the chaos of the tempestuous cry of a thundershower.
And, when it’s all over and the storm has passed, a rainbow.
