When I Look Out Unto The Rain

(A photo of Afremov's Night Street). Image used from: http://afremov.com/image.php?type=P&id=18109
(A photo of Afremov’s Night Street).
Image used from: http://afremov.com/image.php?type=P&id=18109

When I look out unto the rain,
I see thoughtful reflections of the inspired,
of those who are dancing
their way beneath it,
trying to catch the ideas
locked away within each drop.
They dance through
this rain,
shining like gold upon the streets,
and in the distant eyes of those
whose minds waltz an active promenade.
When I look out unto the rain
I drink in the genius of these golden eyed rain-dancers.
I see the ingenuity of scenes that flourished
throughout countless chapters of an evolution
painted by the observant eyes, of those who had
seen this scene before me,
and the limitless minds of those who had created something else.
When I look unto the rain
I gaze in wonderment at the fabrics sewn together,
by each thread of history taken place here;
I see the dark times and the good times,
mud stained and sunny-dayed across the horizons
of the once blank canvas beyond this window pane.
When I look out unto this rain
I can’t help but gaze and wonder how a time so
incredible as this one can be shared with everyone,
and yet no one,
at the same time.
A moment in time,
where we, the dancers under the rain,
the distant window gazers,
the transformative artists,
and the writers who try to capture this moment
but never succeed,
can share this moment with the oblivious;
those who walk on by,
and don’t take the time to notice or experience
the awe of the rain,
but choose instead, to subject themselves to its damp.
But in this moment, when I look out unto the rain,
I see two worlds,
as they unfold their stories in front of me.
So the next time I am asked why,
I am staring pretentiously out the window
at a rainy day, hopefully now,
I can explain why, with a little more accuracy.

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