Rain and Clouds

I’m sitting here on the bed listening to Karl’s rhythmic breathing punctuated by the haphazard splattering of rain on the metal roof outside my bedroom windows.

I can tell when a gust of wind arrives. The clattering sounds like someone dumped a glass of ice water onto the hunter green steel.

The raindrops’ voices are mesmerizing, in spite of their unpredictable intermittence.

My voice, however, feels muted. Lately, I’ve felt as though I can no longer write about myself and my life. It’s hard. I can’t say what’s happened; it’s a mystery.

Long Day

It’s been a long day, and I can’t say any of this is comfortable. All I can say is that it feels like my future is every bit as clouded over as the world outside my window. But it’s not clouded over in a depressing sense. It’s simply…obscured.

Something tells me that this is a necessary part of my process.

So I’m going to go with it.

Good night for now. May tomorrow bring us all more clarity.

(T-750