Fire to the Rain

A week. A mere week. Time has a peculiar way of compartmentalizing, or in some cases, taking a lifetime of memories and consolidating them into mere days. It's haunting truly, to look back and relive these moments of such exquisite pleasure, in such a small window. The simple things.

Life trickles by unnoticed at times. You get used to things. You get used to normalcy, an order to things. Which is why when something magical just so happens to register, it registers with thunder; it registers with fire and with rain.

It is possible that the entire time, you've been seeking it, subconsciously. Wishing that this magic materializes in the most unexpected of times. Under a blanket of stars. Intoxicating.

This magic is enthralling. It takes a hold of you with such force. Your entire being shakes, you lack focus. You long for more. And you hope it never goes away.

How does one deal with this newly found force? Why is it here, when life gets in the way?

Perhaps, it is meant to be a part of life rather than an illusion. Perhaps it is no mere illusion, but rather the recognition of something greater, a signal, a beacon. It illuminates every crevice of your soul. How else to reconcile the subtleties of it all; the spark, the glances, the vibrations, the meaning between the lines, the forcefulness of such things.

I long to revisit this force, in my dreams, my thoughts and in reality. Because that's where I feel it belongs; this magic, this sweet perfume of collective words, unspoken, yet so very real.

The rain, a mere background for the spectacle of unspoken words. The fire, a force of change, burning away old and jumbled memories, giving way to the recognition of something that cannot and should not be ignored. The universe has a funny way of correcting things.

The coals whisper as the rain drops fall one after the other. They whisper in the dead of night. Remember this. Remember how we set fire to the rain. Give time to time. Remember. And let us set fire to it once again.