Falling from the heavens unto me, traces of you form perfect beads. Shaped by gravity and pressure, they plunge from above and seek their targets. A celestial curtain, a gypsies ethereal wall. Obscuring that within reach but yet clearing the heavy air. I now thread lightly on the newly washed path. After the forced break I see my target clearer than ever.
Is that what rain is for? a mandatory break to refresh and reconsider. Does the monotonous become blinding and suffocating? or is monotony a side effect of our own suffocating blindness.
Either way the rain is welcome and so are you.
Copyright (c) 2009
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