Rain

It's past 1 a.m. and it's raining outside.
I hear the drops of water, pounding on my window, almost as if they're trying to force their way inside.

Have you ever thought about rain?  I mean, yes, it comes down from the sky and gives life to plants and humans alike.  But have you ever thought about it outside of its proper function?

Perhaps rain pounds against the windows because it has heard the pounding of a hand upon a door, and is trying to imitate the sound.
Maybe it wants to come inside, because the dryness of the air makes it cold, just like the rain itself makes us cold.
Could it be that rain has a different life span?  Its life begins the moment it leaves the cloud, and ends the second it hits the ground.  But what seems to us to be just few seconds in time, could be an entire lifetime to that single droplet of water.

What does rain see when it falls to the earth?

Does it feel the rushing of the air upon its body?  Does the shape of the rain drop come from the speed at which it falls, and the air forced on it?  Does it convey what it sees to the other rain drops around it, or all they all alone, unable to communicate with each other?

I'm sure if rain could speak, it would have marvelous tales to tell.  Witnessing the homecoming of a lost soldier, the burial of a loved one, the birth of a new life.  So many stories.

But perhaps being unable to speak, is what adds to the mystery of the rain.
Its silence of what is sees is somewhat a comfort.
For while it still seems to pound and sing as its life passes by, it brings feelings of warmth, coziness, and nostalgia to those who are inside, listening to its song.

It just may be, that next time you're outside in the rain, it would do you some good to put down your umbrella and just stand there, face up to the sky.  To listen to the whispers of the rain.  And let your being reflect upon those tiny droplets of water, making yourself a part of their seemingly short-lived lives.