A Very Short Prose about Rain

Rain is the most inspiring phenomenon in life. More than volcano, more than meteor traveling as a shooting star. Rain is blessing for the earth.

10. It is He who sends down rain from the sky: from it ye drink, and out of it (grows) the vegetation on which ye feed your cattle. 11. With it He produces for you corn, olives, date-palms, grapes and every kind of fruit: verily in this is a sign for those who give thought.
(An-Nahl 16:10-11)

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And rain is blessing for the heart and mind. Especially mine.

Everytime it rains, it feels like I can draw a thousand words. About everything: About reality or reverie. About the present, or memories. About life, or suicide.

That is because rain helps me to feel more about everything: Warmer about the chill. More painful about pain. More lonely about being heartbroken, and far from home.

That is because, when it rains, everything becomes blurry so I don’t believe my vision as much as usual.
That’s when I sense my favorite:
the tone of raindrops,
the smell of wet ground,
the chill of the still,
and the taste of coffee.

I believe in you, Michael. The way I believe in Azrael.