The rain is a gentle reminder. That all things will come to this. To this apartment and this day and this life which is like so many others. It is a cruel realization for the rain to force upon you. Fight it if you must. You will lose the fight. You will be one tiny person fighting an avalanche of crushed dreams and broken spirits. The streets of San Francisco are haunted by despair. You can hear it ricocheting off the billboards. You can hear it whispered from derelict buildings. It is the tick of machinery. It is the sound of misery. It is the gentle reassurances which ring false in fluorescent light.
Why don’t you believe when you know that it is true. You think that I am a liar and you find some kind of solace in this. I find solace in the dark clouds. In the fog that comes regular like clockwork. In the masses of people, silent armies sludging their ways through hasty commutes.
We are sick. You are sick. You are dying of caffeine and cigarettes and sitcoms. Greasy food and easy living. You are a parasite on the earth. This is not an insult. It is fact. You are a creature sucking trees and oil. Devouring them. Taking them in and giving nothing back. You are the boogey man. You are hiding in the closets of the rainforest. You are the tree frog’s nightmare. But he doesn’t realize it.
So the rain reminds you. It is a catalyst to your awareness. You ignore it. You ignore so many things. Really, you have gotten quite good at it. (We all have.) Now, the time to take a step back and recognize the security you take for granted. The food in your belly. The roof that keeps the gentle rain at bay.