Heavy Rain

I just realized something that has always been true, but that I've been passing by unaware. No, not like two ships in the night. More like how every kind of tree drops distinctive patterns of rain on water during a storm, whether you notice it or not. I just noticed that, and it blew my mind, because it has always been that way and I've been missing out on that for my whole life. My life hasn't been very long, but still. That made me pay attention to the way that raindrops hit my shirt, how drops splatter on cloth, how they soak in where they impact as well as in the places where their pieces land. That's how it is with sorrow, and probably love too. What I know about is sorrow. I realized that that's why people think they are over things and then break down crying in the middle of Barnes and Nobles after they just laughed at the cover of "The Pirate's Captive". They stumbled across a place sorrow had soaked in that they hadn't expected. In the universe, according the Stephen Hawking, most of the mass is comprised of dark matter. He doesn't really know what dark matter is, and neither do I, mainly because he doesn't. That's how the heart is. Most of it's weight, it's heaviness, is made of things you can't define, or rather can't understand or find, which isn't the same as it not being there. Kind of like God. I don't always understand Him, but He's still there. I've wished dark heart matter wasn't there, mainly because it spills over at the strangest times, like now. That's why it's nice that God only gave us two feet. That means you can turn long walks into long, slow walks, which is a way to process things, or maybe just find your way to the edge of things and look through the branches at the other darker branches that are further back. I find myself on the edge of things most often, and I walk those edges on stilts. Mostly, it's my heart that's on stilts, and there aren't real woods, just heart woods. There are fewer and fewer real woods, I'm told. My eyes tell me that, and newspaper articles too. Heart woods go on and on, though. I've been able to walk into them, but never through them. Another thing I thought about was how plants grow. They don't fret, they just grow, and they grow towards the light. My heart is in dark woods. Not tangly woods, not haunted woods, just dark woods. The kind that look back at you when you stand there deciding whether you actually want to go into them, or just turn back and tell your friends that they were really powerful and moving. The kind that aren't so much ominous as they are deep, although those two words sometimes mean the same thing. The kind that probably won't clap their hands when Jesus comes back, they'll just acknowledge him. Like I said, my heart is in dark woods. Sometimes I'm in heavy rain. Sometimes I am heavy rain. I don't think the worst thing is rejection. I think it's being in between places. Just like hatred isn't the worst wound, indifference is.
        If I could go back and change anything, I'd stop Mike from falling asleep at the wheel. If I could change another thing, I'd go back and unsay all the "I love you's" that I've said to people I didn't love, because that hurts them more than it does me. We'd all be safer, then. Everyone I know. I can't go back, though.









I'm in heavy rain.