There is a sense of profound grief and joy blended in the much awaited rain drops, the moment they escape from the cloud-hills. As if they have waited for years of freedom and those years have been slow and fast, eluding glory from the tiny soldiers marching towards death in the pit of the thirsty hell.
In the kingdom of Cloud-hills they were gods of divine evolution waiting for a supreme order, to re-unite with the earthβs crust into matter- tiny beads of light, happiness, love.
So they kiss the grass, fix the butterflies, Wets the soil to become fertile like the motherβs womb- And then die gradually for another birth.