In the moments when the rain falls and smears the muddle into puddles of brown, I stare into the mist, and breathe in the quiet breath of the storm. The rain softly slides into spaces of silence and grace as it drips off the the blades of fading green leaves, suspended in moments of artistic brilliance. The chocolate water paints itself into a froth of foam and indecision, yet moves forward with enigmatic determination.
Great friends share a house full of laughter as the colorful glow of the day etoliates into the darkness of night. A new day tomorrow, and a new chance to see the water dance again.
In bright tones of sunshine, in the midst of an ominous parade of dark skies, the wind softly blows blades of grass in a soft whisper of sense. Time is stone, and the waters lap our feet. The sun hits our necks, and turns our skin a more distant brown. Words are exchanged with the subtleties of vibrant emotion. Smiles, stones, and sun. Once upon a time when the wind blows, we understand we are all here for each other.
In all our decisions, in all our choice, in all our brilliance, in all our tears, in all our joy, in all our moments, if we could only understand that we need be nothing more than the wind blowing blades of grass in the faded summer sun and crisp fall air.
Perhaps we might understand that we cannot truly know. Perhaps we might be happy.
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