Ever notice how clear the air is after a rain?
That clarity, a kind of rebirth, is part of why I love the rain.
If I’m lucky it’s a storm. If I’m really lucky – , I’m outside with my arms wide, head thrown back and eyes closed – the intense crackling of lightning brightening the backs of my eyelids.
The answering thunder loud enough to scatter my cells – rearranging then into the proper vibrational waves. The thunder awakens me, reversing the entropy of continued living. My smile is wide; my spirit is alive and being cleansed. My inner child jumps and skips because she is grateful – happy to share in these moments of joy.
The rain beats away at the dirt that mingles with the air we are supposed to breathe, beats it to the ground where it belongs and each breathe becomes a renewed communion with living. As the thunder quiets down; the rumbles becoming more distant.
My smile wavers… “Come back tomorrow and stay a while,” is my whispered plea to the Spirit of the Storm.
For I know that tomorrow the sun’s intense rays will bring presentiment of the fires of hell and illuminate air that will again be rank with the stench of humanity.
The Xhyra Graf 