Rain

I wondered whether it is a coincidence or not, resuming a very old discussion I've had with myself to decide whether I do believe in coincidences or not. It does feel, though, as if the skies lifted my sorrow into the clouds and shaped it in pouring rain, the tears he will always be unable to cry falling down on the earth. The first rain of the season, coming crashing down on me in the exact moment when you leave. How fitting. Makes me feel almost like a shaman, the power to bend the nature to my will flowing through my veins, turning the force of nature into my very own feelings.

I don't feel it yet, even though the nature is feeling it all for me, and pouring accordingly. It's still too early, you know, too early no note the disruption of routines, the subtle return to the permanent twilight. I can feel it in the air, and if the sun itself is clouded, making all the things in the earth less real and somewhat eerie. The feeling will come to me slowly, step by step, in every place where you were supposed to be, but where you aren't anymore. The small things - the small things are always the ones which hurt the most. They will, one by one, I can see them already queuing outside with sticks and stones. Let them come, I think. For each blow will hurt, but it will also bring back a little of the sweetness that fades away into the rain in this sad morning.