The grey light sheds misty drops on the motions of my weightless body. Falling drops tinge me with their bombardment and the sensuous smell of rain emanates a taste of life. The reigning clouds lift me out of the heavy weight of a Texas summer sun. The passing rain is not more than a breeze and a grey shadow, but swift, this business of life is acted and falls away and the life-filled grey above is parted.
There is a story about a blind man who when it rains can see the world by the pattering echoes of the rainfall. Its knocking on the sides of the world opens the eyes of his mind... Are we not blind souls unawake until we see and feel a knocking on the hard surfaces of the world? Is the poignant passing of pain and bitter tastes of life a rainfall into our world? Are true moments of sorrow and joy, the depths of human experience that mingle together in the heart of the universe, not the heavy beating of a life-giving rain?
I sit sedately in my comforted chair and would pass this world away, but a merciful God acts sorrow and joy into my heart with cauterizing nails to awaken me to the Cloud of His presence.
The thunder roams off in the distance admitting that it also is only a beggar at His feet.
