(no subject)
The sweet smell of a summer rain is drifting through the open window, on a breeze that cools my sticky skin. The sound of the rain falling on each surface is distinct, and the only sound in the darkened room. Gradually, the rain falls with more determination. Pounding raindrops cast a gray veil over my view. I'm uncertain of my feelings, my future is a mystery and the present is an unanswered question. The rain does nothing to help, though doesn't make it worse. The sky brightens, and still the rain pours. And there, I rest my gaze on a single sunflower. Petals two inches long, it's brightness striking through the gray haze like the a child's balloon floating in the sky. Each petal seems to reach for the drops of rain, each drop falling with only one purpose, to refresh this sunflower. As I watch, the sky brightens, as if the sunflower itself is glowing, and the rain refracting each ray of light. The rain slows to just a few drips. And there, I believe, the sunflower has discovered it's own purpose. To love and worship the sun, and to cherish and savor the rain.