One of many dull afternoons, where the much laden clouds, harbingers of rain long awaited, like a sea of woes, brought upon me a low sense of melancholy. Try, as I did, to rid my memory of moments stashed away never to throw – hard as it was, the shades of grey seemed to resonate and reflect, seemed to glare, from angles all along unnoticed.
The rain, it fell, its first tender droplets like the gentle kiss of a young child. Its soft caress had powers within reaching beyond, that I had but yet realized. To let yourself go, to open your arms, to sway a little to the rain dance can, and from true experience I say, genuinely wash away the frequent spells of anguish that furrow thy brow, those that seem to cling but strongly with and without love.
Soaked and drenched to the bone, as I was, and yet each step forward stepping slightly into those shallow puddles, on to a long promenade, the ripples my feet caused seemed to reverberate how slowly but surely it was all going away – the wounds of a hurt unhealed seemed to be being soothed and languidly drying away.
Much time spent wont in abandon’s abandon, that shroud, now slipping past, let me feel again the raison d’etre.
The mild colours of a faint rainbow shone yonder and from it I saw an array of hope, a promise that tomorrow held wrapped, invisible yet blossoming – the silver lining at the end of a dark cloud, the much needed respite after a thunderstorm, the ability to sweep out the broken pieces without picking them up and to walk on.
Maybe somewhere down the lane, I will find that yellow brick road to lead me on a path to where my heart lies for the journey, it never ends.
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