La Pluie

The rivers flow today. They flow every day of their existence. But some days they flow less than other days. Today they flow fast. The sky is covered with white cotton candies. A silvery mist is beginning to fall. The trees sway in the autumn breeze, like a group around a campfire as the kindling dwindles in warmth, their hymn resonating within each other’s hearts and souls. The mist thickens as the sky darkens. A flash of light strikes in the distance. A few seconds later, thunder crashes. No longer is the sky a cotton cloud cover, but a rolling avalanche of darkness, enveloping the world. Rain pours onto the ground, water leaking into the inner earth. Each droplet an asteroid from a distant star. An extraterrestrial attack upon the land. No longer is it misting or sprinkling, but raining. The leaves bounce as water rolls down their veins. As the day passes, the rain pours at varying levels. In the evening, a tiny glimmer appears through the overcast. A gleam of hope from an omnipotent power. The rain thins, the lightning stops.  More holes poke through the cover. Slowly but surely  comes the end of the liquid bombardment. The end of the rain reveals a barrage of colors upon the horizon. Oranges, pinks, purples and yellows fill the sky. A breathing out of the universe. An end of a cycle.  Tomorrow it will begin again, with a new rain, a new sky, new trees and new leaves. New rivers will flow. The impermanence of the life shows, but a gentle pleasure can be taken in this transience. A true and genuine happiness at the end of one life and the beginning of a new. The old generation will end and begin and end again, as the cycle of life continues. La pluie shall fall again.

Author's Note

Another old story not really reflective of my current writing style. I wrote this in response to the Amethystium song, La Pluie.