Listening to raindrops is oddly soothing. The loud claps of thunder through a murky sky a melody from the gods. Lightning a fast portrait of fire. While I sit and listen to the lazy rain run to meet the thirsty ground, I ponder aimlessly in my mindscape.
Thoughts of loved ones long gone and new crushes to caress. I stare at the drawings on my hands and wrists and wonder if I might become something for art by art. I write this and feel like I want to be a writer.
Then I fall back into my consciousness, and realize, I CAN BE EVERY SINGLE ONE. Raindrops brought new radicle and raking thoughts. I or one, am grateful to the rain for letting me listen in on its raindrops and dewdrops.