Genesis of Rain

On the first day, there was rain. And it was used to mask the pain of

all that came before. Something always comes before. Erased by time

or shame or loss or victory. But on your first day, you existed in rain

that poured down heavily and pooled around your bare feet and bare

mind. You knew nothing from this so-called before that left behind

stone ruins that couldn’t be replicated. You are small but not weak. You

know little but your body knows everything it needs to know about

everything, not manufactured.

And you feel most things happen without permission. Being

manipulated or commanded into existence, into motion, around you.

And you scribble your panic out and away from you. Things happen

with or without you even when you are the center. Or so you thought.

But your bloodline was founded in greed and violence. That which you

can never escape. And maybe the original sin, that you can never know.

You will never be privy too; it is your innate curse. One that you will

suffer through forever. Because things don’t need permission to exist,

and emotions are not logical. Cannot be made logical. Submission is

not a natural reaction to that

which is around you.

You are hope. The future. Everything and nothing exists within thanks

to a bloodline of history you don’t know. Will never know. That gave

you a biped system and organs that function without your permission

and ones that don’t function because they are no longer useful, and you

don’t understand what they were even supposed to be used for.

Here we cope with words

You are hope.

The future.

Everything and nothing exist within you.

Around you.

Is centered around you.

Thanks to a bloodline of history, you don’t know.

Will never know.

A bloodline that gave you a biped system and organs that function

without your permission

and organs that don’t function because they are no longer useful.

You don’t understand

what they were even supposed to be used for in the first place.

Because, on the first day,

there was rain.

It was used to mask

all the pain that came before.

Something always comes before.

A before erased by time, shame, loss, or victory.

But on your first day,

you existed in rain

that poured down thickly and pooled around your bare feet

and bare mind.

You know nothing from this so-called before

that left behind concrete ruins that can’t be replicated.

You are small but not weak.

You know little but your body knows everything it needs

about everything not manufactured.

This before clings to you.

You feel most things happen without permission.

The rain will fall, and the earth will spin,

and you will still be standing there with no shoes on,

processing.

As everything is being manipulated,

commanded, encoded,

into existence,

into motion,

around you.

And you scribble your panic out and away from you.

Using pens with unknown origins

made out of materials that are manufactured

in a way that probably is killing you this very second.

Because ignorance is bliss,

and enlightenment can be reversed and forgotten.

Still, you believe things happen with or without you

even when you are the center.

Your bloodline was founded in dragon greed and gluttonous violence.

Everything is to be collected and consumed by you.

You are the most important one here.

Everyone and everything else are beneath you.

And you can never escape this belief.

Maybe the original sin,

that you will never know

and will never be privy too,

is your innate curse.

One that you will suffer through forever.

Because there is nothing that needs permission to exist.

To take up space.

Not you,

not me,

not curses,

not hope,

and not the plain ceramic vase full of white flowers that sits on your

bedside table.