It rained more on my beach vacation this summer than normal. I’m always drawn to dramatic weather, and the ocean as well, so I suppose the combination of the two worked together to create an unusual synergy in me during this particular thunderstorm. I stood in the beach house kitchen, the rain pouring on the other side of the windows, literally feeling pulled outdoors. By the time I reached the front porch, the rain had mostly stopped, but I lingered for a bit, enjoying the fresh smell of rain and ocean air in the dark. I often don’t understand how everyone isn’t pulled in this way….
The Time Will Come
The rhythm of the summer rain
Draws me out to participate
While others take refuge inside
And I wonder “How can everyone not feel the pull?”
As the drums beat their pulse, I feel it in my bones
My essence is alive
And I wonder how the tourists view it only as an event,
Not an awakening
How does everyone seem to go through life as a spectator,
When to me, each event Is a deeper experience
Of the Divine?
In part, I’m jealous
For it seems simpler to just exist
But then my soul just won’t let me exist
Only on the surface
The stakes are too high
And I wonder how thunder does not instill awe
In all who experience it.
Is it too commonplace,
Or have we lost our sense of connection?
For when I see the lightening flash
And hear the pouring rain
My heart skips a beat,
And I know we’re experiencing
The deepest sense of communication,
Yet only a few can hear
So I drink my wine
And I listen to the sounds of TV inside
And I know the time will come.
It will come.
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