It’s raining outside. I know it’s raining outside.
It bothers me. Not the rain. But, the knowing.
Knowing is bothersome, as much as our minds are vexing.
That’s where all resides – all that is worthless.

The sound of the rain is gentle, it relaxes the spirit.
The rain, like nature itself, cares deeply and dotingly.
It’s the calling of a sea, it’s the promise of endless Springs.
It’s magical, more than magical, it’s motherly and reliable.
God speaks through the rain – Nature is hallowed (undeniably).
Yet, to my mind, it’s annoying.
We should slaughter the mind!

I don’t know the reason in things.
I don’t want to know the reason in things.
Let them be meaningless.
Let me be meaningless.
Isn’t love the reverse of reason?  
Well, I prefer love. Even that foolish love
that blindly walks hand in hand with sorrow.
Even then, I still choose love.
If I could, I would not think at all.

It’s raining outside. I know it’s raining outside.
It bothers me. Not the rain. I bother myself.