Drops & Fingerprints
- Jose L. Carballo
- May 18, 2017
- 1 min read
There I lay on the corner of my bed, and with my boredom hanging by a thread i started to look out at the rain and through the glass I saw marks, tiny droplets, fingerprints outside my window.
I looked closer and observed this oddity. I was intrigued at this sight, “the rain makes fingerprints” how odd, how mysterious. I looked there and just stared, without moving, I stared and thought “life is in the rain.”
Rain is life, it is substance, its what gives us immortality, We are in the rain or rather we will be. Every time it rains now, I like to look at my window and spot these little prints and watch at how they form.
Over and over again down my window. And now I am no longer here accompanied by melancholy, but outside dancing with the rain who with complete loyalty I give myself and can always talk to.
I am the rain, I am the small marks on the glass. I am prepared to be reborn into salty droplets of love, of sadness. I want to be embodied in watery salty tears falling from dark grey clouds. Let me feel the wind, the cold wind that blows me towards you, towards your window, slipping down the glass, made sure of your presence.
Comments