rainy turmoil

I must admit that I do sorta love this weather. It is only when the heavens are in turmoil that my soul is at peace. Temporarily, at least.

I am merely existing at the moment. I've been withdrawn from the world, reverting once again to observer instead of participant. On the surface, you wouldn't think I had a care in the world. But inside, this troubles me a great deal. Is it just the seasonal fatigue of the rat race that's to blame, or is depression creeping in?

I love the rain. It gives life and beauty to plants and trees. It lifts my spirits and calms the storm inside of me. And, late at night, the sound it makes outside my window chases away my insomnia and helps me find peaceful, restful sleep.

The single drops on my window will soon merge with others, rolling out of sight to continue their never ending journey between heaven and earth. If only the rain could wash away all that's wrong in this world, the way it washes away the dirt and grime from the streets and alleys of the city, from the rooftops of the houses, and from the leaves of the trees that line the avenue.

There's no resolution. The sound of the rain will help ease my mind. Temporarily, at least.