Rain is Deep

The bodies fall like drops of rain. We’ll block the pelts with an umbrella, sometimes covering the head of a neighbor or friend, but not very concerned about stopping the drops from falling. Of course, it is a ridiculous thing to strive for, that is, saving drops of rain from falling from the sky. There are so many, and no amount of effort would ever suffice. And really, what is the point?

Isn’t it the same with people then? There are countless falling, most of whom go unseen by little old me. Even when I hold out my hands, they slide around my palms, hang from my knuckles— grow heavy, and drip off to the ground.

And there is something very soothing about sitting beneath the tree and staying dry, knowing I am safe as the members of the sky splatter the ground. There is an awful bunch of life in one drop though. Have you ever seen the rock-bottom force, how the collision annihilates
every
single
drop?

I imagine there are some who have opted not to stay dry. The drops will soak into their clothes, their hair, and even the pores of their skin, and wonder who sent their savior.

And they say that if you run you hit more drops.