Rain rains like rain when rain is the name and the action at the same time: and rain dissolves and disappears in rain – and it is only in rain that rain dissolves itself, it must be said when clouds are plain busy wandering around the skies
There when it rains there is no new rain like
there is no old rain too – when it rains, it’s just rain – and when one gets
busy with the time that rain is born drawing planetary positions on the little leaves
on trees with faces blank as paper one gets a sense of rain old and rain new, but
still raining now as rain and that’s all there is
New rain wears monochrome masks of moments and
memories before it disappears in old rain and all that remains in the end, is
just rain that rains
When the rain of every time, age and lives of the
past and the future hide, reside in falling droplets of rain that rains now (with
invisible, naturally nonexistent lines separate rain old from rain new), endlessness
of time does a few steps of joyous tap-dance on the roofs of the world (like the
hooves of dream horses that run past lines on the map of infinity)
[Every story untold or unwritten falls with every
falling droplet of rain along with all the stories of every falling droplet of rain,
hiding in its silence]
Rains disappear, but never forgotten, always
changing from this to that and in the end only to return to what it was when
everything began – rain rains
