Gray rain splatters on the gray window, the drips running down in random trails, collecting and changing direction in accordance to some unseen force. I sit on my bed, staring past the blinds to the scene outside. The dull glimmer of ambient light that is found in any built up area illuminates the rain, but beyond the immediate surroundings everything fades into blackness; the moon is sheathed in thick clouds, and the darkness creeps up, like some enigmatic force.
I gaze without really seeing, thoughts running through my head. I savour this tranquility, where there is no intrusion from anyone else. Sometimes I think of Ode to a Nightingale by Keats; there's a sense of peace and passive calm that is present in the early morning that is entirely at odds wth the usual routine of life. This fragile sense of solitude is what I enjoy most.
The rain keeps on pouring down, and I find myself losing myself in the unpredictable rythm of their beats on the glass. Maybe, someday, I'll find someone to share this with.
skip to main |
skip to sidebar
Written by:
- Peter
- My name's Peter, I write on this blog. That's enough info for one day, methinks.