euphorbia
caustic milk - hybrid
Registered: Apr 2001
Location:
Posts: 16728 |
blues and whites - grays and grays
It hasn’t rained; not in a few days.
No cleansing of my soul, no washing of the world, no drink for the purist most beautiful creatures on this earth, swelling thier roots - making them bloom.
I love the rain, it is my oldest lover, my best lover, my favorite lover. No other has filled me, and covered me and left me as vibrant as the rain. I wonder what my neighbors think when they see me out there in my yard, wet, and motionless in its arms. I’m just glad they don’t disturb me.
I have no want when I’m out there, everything seems so very complete. Roles of nature and wheels and cycles make everything seem so neat, and pure, and honest and defined and easy.
So easy.
I push my hands into the soft ground, letting it envelope me, hold me.
Could there be anything more perfect? Have you ever ran naked in the rain? Made love in the rain, just sat motionless in the rain and let it make love to you; filling you, envelope you?
There are few places I would rather be. Some times my body aches for the rain, for its honesty, and simplicity, for its touch...
No, it hasn’t rained in a while.
Where is my old lover?
Wont he come to me?
Report this post to a moderator |
IP: Logged
|