RAINFALL (2)

Time passes, left you far behind as a memory. But it’s not really over, I guess.

The velvet sky suddenly faded into grey. I heard the rumbling of thunder. Then it was pouring outside. I was in the back seat of a taxi on my way for a late lunch. The taxi’s window indistinctly deflected one existence; hence I doubt I perceived the person I used to know, intimately. But it was really you. Standing among the rain, waving your right hand with the same smile as always: satirical, contagious, mysterious.

I used to call you the rainfall. The one who always makes me never wet enough. The one with eyes lingo that can splashes alphabets in random order. And you’re still there, stepping your own meadows that belongs only to you. And I can never be a dweller on it.

Then, I was suddenly stranded. No clue, no sign, no omen, only the rain. Those physical vehicles – the taxi and my body – finally brought me for a late lunch. But it left something I didn’t even realize at first until my curiosity trapped me in one huge question mark: what is this about?’

Among hundreds of days in a year, why did the universe pick that day for us to running into each other? Sort of a fucking serendipity?

What was behind the rain, you, and I – the rain lover? Kind of a goddamn synchronicity?

All of a sudden, I lost my appetite. Those fancy, delicious appearance food was no longer attracted me. Deep down inside, there’s something needs to be fed, needs to be gratified. And I still believe it hungers for only one thing: the rainfall. Even for a single drop.

Fragments of time have been leading us almost everywhere. They drove us to the world where we laughed and cried together, yet to the stillness where we felt we were the owner of this world. And at last, it brought us nowhere.

Call me blind for I see you as the rainfall. But it was also you who made me blind, didn’t you? There’s a thin difference between loving an object after a figure. And I had no idea, whether you were a figure instead of a mere object.

The only thing becomes precise now is you will always be the rainfall: the symbol of impermanency, the representation of a never ending cycle. The messenger of the universe as well.