Rain and people

Urban waterfalls dive down and crash onto the pavement from concrete overhangs covered in wildly potted plants and meandering ivy slowly colonizing its urban habitat.
Sidewalks overflow with instant rivers rushing to find a destination, and all of a sudden people on either end of the asphalted abyss appear oceans apart, looking at each other and the low sky from a newly felt distance.A once white pinnacle chimes its solemn horn - an auditory lighthouse guiding in the restless across a deserted concrete plain where neither leaf nor shadow provide shelter. 

Come here and share with me your high hopes, keep us afloat with lighthearted laughter, sail with me on a breath of sighs, if only for a while, and adrift on ideals, let us navigate this city of giants! 

And does it not make you wonder? Does the heaviest and blackest of rains not always catch us unaware, halfway between destinations? Does it really rain when one has already arrived? Is arriving not precisely the stopping of that suffocating rain drowning us? Distance growing with tension, until the air finally breaks and the pressure releases into light, lightness, afloat in heavy skies, escaping into the open, travelling… 

Rain, like people, falling through gravities and darkening skies, searching for release, waiting to be drained. Displacing dark clouds into subterranean porosities, half-empty cavities that absorb us, take us in, and out of sight….

Until memories dry up.