Red and Dying Evening

The sky is crying non-stop since last Thursday.

All I can do is only spend my time in the room,seeing the tears from my bedroom windows.

I really love the rain.

I love the smell of it, the purity.

The rain comes, it cleanses the sins of the worlds, it cleans the wounds of life.

The rain also has different emotions, and stirs memories and thoughts.

You have here the gentle, misting rain, where I gaze for hours in front of the window, watching it fall to the earth. You can hear the earth breathe easier, a sigh of relief.

And for a while, you too are removed of negativity, filled with peace and content.
Grey skies and the scent of rain on the wind.

There is the rain of sorrow, where the sky simply swells and cries, its tears falling to the earth, it is this rain that you can walk in and be at peace when there is no one else around, for you understand that you are not alone in your despair.

This is the rain that is most soothing.

Then you have the rain of rage, where the drops are huge and menacing, the rain that pummels the earth in a huge tantrum, rage and indignity.

This is the rain that falls when some great wrong has come against you. Next is the rain of passion, its drops heavy and soft, perfect for playing in, making love in, and running around like a kid in.

This rain soaks you to the bone, but does not freeze you. Finally, you have the
rain of rest, when all the world seems to sleep.

This is the rain that falls steadily, easing you to sleep, sending you to the dreamworld.

In this rain, it is cool, and you are comfortable in any position. You are at peace with the world, safe.

Yes, I do love the rain, the tempermental rain, its scent, feel, and sound.

My favorite rain is the quiet, great peaceful rain, when the wrongs of the world are washed clean.