Rain pours and pounces the landscape near and far. To nature a drink of life; to others, a dismal day in shelters and hideaways who long for escape. The drops fall with purpose but without permission. They require no planning or proposals but only elements to interact and become whole. But delve deeper and realize we are not but prisoners of life within raindrops, but chosen components to the development of an awesome experience.
We are tiny shards in a fragmented sky. What we see, understand and encompass exists within a fragile framework that is delicate and yet withstanding of the powerful forces which surround it. We are a drop falling to seemingly certain destruction. This is life. We are formed as drops when the elements are present and fall through this life only witnessing it through the thin veil which imprisons us. We rarely push the veil for fear of dying, and yet we were dead before our fall to the surface even began.
And yet it is death which gives any meaning to life at all. Yet still we live as though we are dead because our fear of life being taken from us consumes us, making us prisoner within the raindrops.
Whether we push the walls of our liquid cocoon to break out or hide within, we still slam to the ground and fall apart. The protection we feel is no protection at all. The ending is always the same. So if the drop breaks during the fall, what have we lost? The essence of rain is that it falls; the essence of life is that it ends. The beauty of it all is not that we know in the end we die in a downpour but to have lived within the storm, felt its passion instead of not being chosen to fall at all.
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