And all I hear is Rain, Rain, rain...
So I woke up this morning form a long night that was in a many ways verry draining.
It was a long night of Rain, not hard, just constatnt, the sort of warm rain the fills you will energy and opens flood gates of emotion. By 03:00 I had a house full of friends, all of use ther because being alone was too much, we wanted our drugs, or to hurt someone, or just feard loosing what grip we had.
So we spent the night with good music on, strong sounds to help keep us all centerd, and reading from our books, and building out models and when it got too thin we wound wander out, feel the rain on our faces and listen to the beting it makes on the roofs, and to watch as the collums of warm spring rain fell on the trees. And getting drenched walk under there sheltering arms to smell, the dry and softaly acrid smell of wet pine.
The world is allways changed by a night like this.
The weekend has been about rain, Friday was center on it as well, it rained all day the soft sort like the sky weeping, and then stoped just in time for the sun to set like fire over the hovvering mist in the black pine of the barrens.
To seal it like a stamp on memory, sitting outside of the club Shara, a waif with all the charms of having seen the world, and with the sadness in her eyes turnes to me an says "It does rain all the time, you just need eyes to see it."
It was a long night of Rain, not hard, just constatnt, the sort of warm rain the fills you will energy and opens flood gates of emotion. By 03:00 I had a house full of friends, all of use ther because being alone was too much, we wanted our drugs, or to hurt someone, or just feard loosing what grip we had.
So we spent the night with good music on, strong sounds to help keep us all centerd, and reading from our books, and building out models and when it got too thin we wound wander out, feel the rain on our faces and listen to the beting it makes on the roofs, and to watch as the collums of warm spring rain fell on the trees. And getting drenched walk under there sheltering arms to smell, the dry and softaly acrid smell of wet pine.
The world is allways changed by a night like this.
The weekend has been about rain, Friday was center on it as well, it rained all day the soft sort like the sky weeping, and then stoped just in time for the sun to set like fire over the hovvering mist in the black pine of the barrens.
To seal it like a stamp on memory, sitting outside of the club Shara, a waif with all the charms of having seen the world, and with the sadness in her eyes turnes to me an says "It does rain all the time, you just need eyes to see it."