It rained today as I walked along the shoreline of a pond; I stopped to watch the drops sink below the surface of the water strewn with dark red leaves, and studied the shallow ripples as they rolled together, slowly dying out.
The air was quiet, dull, thick and moist and as I walked the fallen leaves made no sound below my feet.
I didn’t mind the rain, it was light and the drops seemed to float to the ground in no big hurry.
I wasn’t really cold nor was I warm, and the rain on my neck didn’t bother me much.
I didn’t care that I had to go back to work soon and I didn’t care that the trees were bare and the sun was away.
In fact the only thing that seemed to matter was the lack of everything; I felt no connection to the Earth, the trees or the sky.
But pain is always there to welcome me, there is a sense of sadness, a feeling hidden somewhere beyond the colors of the fall and the reflections of me in the raindrops.
It’s there always, rising from the ground like humidity in the desert brilliantly reflecting everything back at me, making everything appear real, but I know it’s just a vision, a transparent image that hides the hurt until I need it again.
Sometimes though, the reflection hides even the good, the happiness, and then I can’t see it through the pain.