For a moment you can feel the grey stain your eyes, and you turn to look, finding only what you were expecting to see. The little personal waterfall you have inside has not emptied itself for over a week, and has found its route out of you, into the open, filling the sky with your colours, and it rains.
Silver drops of glass, falling down gossamer linings from the clouds above; holding the earth in place, as the winds move it about, trees embracing their infant leaves closer, inwards, towards the grove, and the storm you contained timid inside you, makes its way out of your window, sending the curtains of your eyes flailing. The sky becomes a colossal light bulb and the crystal surface above cracks open in flashes of white, light bleeding in momentarily, but your eyes still catch it.
What is bleeding is the horizon. It is bleeding out in trails too many to count and all you can think of are ways to be entangled in them, get caught in the raging swirl inside yourself, and let your skin run off like a fresh smear of colour, until there is nothing left but the storm, and you. Sing; rejoice for you have finally come face to face with your maker.
‘Tis the season of dancing, I’m afraid, and singing, really letting go of your cage, the one you have willfully imprisoned yourself in. Those who watch you, do so, because in that moment, there is nothing more beautiful and complete as you under the rain. Be fearless. The Sun is no match for you right now. There is a fountain bursting out from beneath your lotus feet, your soles; tender quivering leaves, as you float over the land us mortals walk upon. Wouldn’t you agree this is your reincarnation into eternity? A universe is reborn every time it rains. Fall apart with it, surrender to the grey, and you will have found a new reflection of yourself in the silent shimmer, afterwards, every time.
Every falling drop that touches you, burns away into a quiet inverted bloom inside, underneath your skin, a bursting substratum of desires, imploding and fulfilling themselves into completion; such is the power of rain, that one may need nothing else to forever.
Might I call you Maitreya from here onward? For, there is none other in your likeness, under this rain. Purity manifested in you the moment soft light touched your being, the glistening in your eye, a ripple on your face; such a gentle breakdown, like wayward daffodils.
A thousand tiny rivulets cleansed you, dissolving the clay of your heart, as your soul broke away, leaving no trails behind, venturing into the endless grey, beckoning to you from behind the thunderclaps. And all you had to do was reach out with your hands, embrace the drops of tranquility, falling endlessly, as they take your pain into the beyond, in reverse.
The sky has broken down, to feel your bloom. It is no ordinary occurrence. If you love rain, it will rain for you. It is raining for you, right now. Don’t you have to leave these confines and run away to be with yourself? There is no time to spare, or waste. Run into the open vastness with your palms spread open, to catch these pieces of sky, for they are your own. Run, for there will not be another chance until tomorrow, to be reborn again.
Maitreya, the time has come for you to emerge into cloud-shadow. Behind the diamond curtain of droplets, the gates to yourself have opened. Must your feet carry you again, or will you dance your way into the falling rain?
Siddharth Pathak | 8th June 2013