Awaiting The Comforting Storm

Anticipation Of Emphatic Flow

Would I know it was Sunday without a device
Of some kind to inform me of reality?
At some point it should matter not that time exists
Or does not, as is in the minds of the sophists.
The air, pregnant with magical moisture, to me,
Is awfully enchanting which is really nice.

Go ahead, then! Be with child, blessed atmosphere!
You and I both deserve it. Our hearts become one
Beating entity. Growing anticipation
Of the torrents oncoming define what is fun.
To behold in protection the cleansing begun,
In a state of comfort I am as it draws near.

Water falling to the earth is such a big deal.
I can’t get enough of it. If in a dry place
Then my mood will be stricken with consciousness drought.
Something about the wetness I can’t live without.
Super liquid dark matter, consume and embrace
All that needs readjustment and more time to heal.

At once, I am my higher self and the one here
With a flesh and blood vessel and a unique take
On all that I experience. I love the rain.
It’s movement almost guarantees release of pain.
I believe that my being deserves such a break
From the desiccant nature of my worldly fear.

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