Of Walls, Domes, and Cages - Run. Rain. Romance.

Run

verb

flee or escape.

Running, running, more running. That's all we do. We run back and forth from home to home, from town to town, from country to country. For what? More running.

But one can grow tired of running.

I have become tired of running.

But I cannot stop.

We live life one second at a time, no time is wasted on minutes or hours. Only seconds.

Seconds keep us moving, keep us thinking. But thinking hurts sometimes.

We can't afford to hurt. We can't afford to love, hate or cry.

Crying is against the rules. Rules that don't necessarily exist. Rules that only thrive inside our minds. Which means more thinking.

And more quiet rule breaking.

Rain

noun

a heavy and continuous descent.

Rain is a beautiful thing.

People have prayed for it.

Killed for it.

Died for it.

It sustains the cycle of life. It controls the delicate balance between sanity and insanity.

Rain signifies cleansing.

Renewal.

It also satisfies thirst.

Which makes you feel refreshed.

Renewed.

Thus is rain.

Romance

noun

a baseless, made-up story.

"Some call love a curse,

some call love a thief"

-Angus & Julia Stone

A curse?

A thief?

A fanciful idea?

Perhaps. Only if you paint it that way.

Romance is sought out. It's craved, held, thrown out, misused, misread, and yet, it's everywhere.

It's it's own living self.

Do we wait do we search.

Are we prince meets princess, poor meets rich, city meets country? Or are we human meeting human and learning how to forgive, grow, trust, commit, and let go?

Perhaps.

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