Dear Rain,

Your magic is like the magic of the wind. Your drops are like the nectar from the heavens. The madness you hold inside inebriates our senses is the same madness which drives the waves across the oceans, which blazes in fire or makes the storms rush through the earth. I long for you so often so rarely.

Love.
....................


amazing time it is. no, really. Sometimes you just sit and wonder and fumble and juggle around with words, you don't know what to say, but you know there is a lot to be said.

not that I'm not waiting for the rain (or rains?) to come,
the meaning of what the winds sing is still unclear to me,
the way the moon walks around in the sky,
and the way those stars make those conspiracies to keep us up throughout the nights,
are still very much the same.

I just wish I could somehow run into those days
when my hands used to stay smudged in wet soil..
and rainbows used to define happiness's meaning.

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