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I miss the rain
Or better, i guess i miss the way it rained there
Fat heavy drops
Not like delicate tears on your skin but so full of water you could feel the individual impacts like your grandmother's hand patting you on the head
But just like grandmother's, not all rain was soft and kind, it also raged and thundered
Loud screaming into the night and the sound of those heavy blows on the roof like rocks from the heavens
To go out, to experience the storm was to feel whole and yet also wholly small
The rain is
Quiet, here
Tamed and angry in it's taming
Anger of futility
Anger of frustration
Maybe some others would call it gentle or kind or soft
But there just isn't enough of it to be those things
Not to me
To me it's just a drizzle, never more than a pattern of calm and too still even in it's movement
The last remnants of a still dying god killed long before it's time
The rain here is dead
And so
I miss the rain
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