A tiny divine murmuring echoes through me whenever a raindrop lands in my eye. My eyelids encircle the droplet protectively as I blink reflexively and as I open my eye a blurry mixture of my own tears and rain runs down my cheek like a tributary.
The heavens cry immortality.
The droplet meeting my eye is but the tip of the needle that threads together this electric, beatific heaving; my own small, human ellipses of rain clouds resting inside my face are but small windows from which to weave the smallest, surest part of the plenitude of life back into a blinding sun which we humans bathe in, in its perfect light, so unknowing and filled with our humanity that we might forget how we are only tiny snowflakes in the tundra of the universe.
Each one of us the prodigy, each of us the plague.
Each one of us the robbery, each of us the take.