The Rain Has Its Ways: Nature, Philosophy, and Poetry
An experience on a rainy evening. Remember, language here circles to capture experience and thought and not create it. Contradictions hint at the expansive nature of experience. I walked in the rain today, A soft shower as I make my way down the deserted lanes. The light drizzle felt like standing under a Cherry Blossom. Leaves swayed, Flowers fell and no sound made. But for the listeners quiet, The rains make them listen to everything. The strong petrichor in the air takes me not to moments of nostalgia or to the future far in fathomable distance. It roots me in the now. The feeling of the now we don't ourselves allow. I am here with the rope of hope I hold on to, With the wearied pages, Pages from the book of the past. You are here when the clock has collapsed which is dear. You are the seer of seasons, The witness of night and day, Under the twilight sky the seer shows stars, Far faraway. Each blink into the eye of the unknown. I am the unknown and so are you. But 'you'...