There are days when the rain seems appropriate. Today was one of them.
I’ve loved the smell of the air when rain is on it’s way, and I’ve loved even more the smell of the crisp air that follows right behind it’s passing. Somehow natures way of cleaning things is far better than our man-made, toxic cleaners to the mess we’ve made.
In the same way that I anxiously await the first rainfall of the season, I long for a season of downpours upon my very life. I will not, cannot say that I have nothing, or that I lack at all. I cannot say that I am without love or friendship. I cannot say that I am without joy – I will not. And yet, on the other hand, I believe that the beautiful things in life can and will be tarnished by the dirt of humanity.
I’d like my life to be rained on, poured on.
It seems that much of what I claim as my own, many of the relationships I am a part of have grown dusty, dull, muddy even. Some haven’t seen water in years.
I’d like to gaze upon the beauty that I believe still exists under the muck and mire that I’m sure I’ve only added to over the years.
Oh let it rain. Let it rain on my blurred perceptions. Let it rain on my muddied mind. Let it rain on hate and pride. Let it rain on my burdened heart. Oh let it rain.
