From my bedroom window one Saturday I saw a lot. I saw the creation of the creations. I saw the life. I heard it. The sound was so Zen and therapeutic. Usually during a time like this people's voices disintegrate to non even if it was noon as other voices start to rise like thunder. The sky lights up even though it's a daytime. That sweet smell in the air announcing the rainy day beginning. It's that time of the year that takes you from day to night in a non like other transition.
There's something about the rain. Those sad tears landing on your face in the middle of the dark nights, quite but cold, giving you this shivering feeling that relief your pain and wash your heart leaving you in this haze and vagueness. Leaving you wondering whose tears are these? How much did they cry? What was the reason for their sadness? Was it even sad tears? Why does the sun shine afterwards? Does that mean that their worries are all washed away and they feel relived? What was that very high sound for? Did the heavens crash and disintegrate over itself? Or was it a cry out for help? They say cry it out and you'll feel relived. Is that what the nature want to teach us as it is sharing our sadness and sorrow? I mean why would such an act make some relieved and some depressed? Why is there lighting? What are they doing up there? I want to know, Just tell me. I guess I'll sit by the window of my room watching as each drop fell down from somewhere. I'll share this creature's burden until there is no more tears to cry.
Unfiltered from my diary....
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