When the high winds are sailing and the grounds are still, a desolation unlike any other desolations filled me. I know it well enough; these feelings have remained as one of the most enduring parts of my personality ever since I could remember and cherish my memories.

The feeling is quite hard to explain, and it might be too subjective to do so. But you’ll know that you have the feeling when the sky darkens and the air grew cold and still. It is the time when the chirping insects grew wary and the birds hid themselves.

You’ll know it as I have known it all these years. The feeling of it did not just creep in, like a thief in the night. It never did, and I guess that it never will. Instead, it will descend upon me like an unnoticeable and oppressing mantle, silencing my thoughts and muting my emotions. How lonely I felt during those times, how empty and helpless.

Outside my house, the people would have no doubt collected their laundry and retired to their homes. The streets would be empty of cars and people. The only thing left for me is the stillness, the silent stillness of the grass, the uneventful-ness of the suddenly non-existant wind…

But then again, everything changes…

It’s always like that.

Like they say, the only thing that never changes is that, everything changes.

I don’t know whether I want to cry or not at that statement. I really don’t know. I won’t go for half guesses or vague answers either.

Many times in my life, there are changes that came unlooked for. Some are welcome, some are not. All in whole, the whole thing is really like the rain.

It is because when it rains, you’ll never quite know when it started and when it ends.

Watching the rain comforted me so. It is like watching myself cry. If these glassy drops that fell from the sky are truly the tears of the sky, I would like them to be my tears. It’s a good thing to have when you think you want to cry, but you can’t.

I can see it quite clearly now. A soft wavy sound like the cries of sorrow and deep lamentations, little soft drops as many and as endless as one could believe.

Rain, rain, rain, eternal rain.

I am quite obsessed with you. Thou art strong, and thou art weak. Thou art limber and yet firm of will.

The inflexibility of your being will not be my vexation; the eventuality of your being will be my happiness and my everlasting sorrow.

The winds and clouds are heavy when the rain came, and the people and the still earth are waiting, waiting for the rain, whether they will it so or not.

I like the thought of rain, sweet furious rain. It is like coming home when you have none to come back to.

Labels: rain, Sandakan