A History Of Rain

[Light as feathers and heavy as death, rain falls on the world and on my body and soul as I run down modern streets in my yoga coat.  The coat was cut from an old sleeping bag and is perfect for adopting yoga poses – for sushi rolling, origami folding, etcetera as well.  The water is tumbling from a broken sky which opens wounds and heals again regularly, over and over forever and once it is done the ground looks up and asks how it is and the sky replies, “I still feel a little bit fragile but I’ll be alright.”  And the sky is mended with the sun and with thick, turgid unbreakable clouds… and this pattern has happened for millions of years.  I shelter under a tree and under my umbrella, in my yoga coat.  I know exactly how I feel about this rain and I wonder how people have felt about this rain forever, how did they feel about this rain four hundred years ago, what about five thousand years ago, what about twenty thousand years ago.  Were the raindrops the same size, did those history people mind?  What about the future?  Will rain even exist or will we all live under glass domes where it never rains and nothing ever happens and what will this mean for the chemicals in our bodies that govern our happiness and our sadness and the pleasant melancholy of watching a day’s rain from inside?]

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