It's raining.

It's raining and I sit here and listen to the pounding of the rain on my windows.

It grows in intensity and then fades away,
then returns with furious ferocity, demanding...
what?
Demanding what?

And now it's gone again,
and the silence is deafening.
The calm and the quiet are almost worse than the bombardment of heavy raindrops.

It's back.

Getting louder.
Getting harder.
Sounding ever more violent.

And receding.

And gone.

More quiet.

More time to sit and wonder.
And ponder how desperate the rain will sound next time.

Like a homeless man on a stormy night, pleading for shelter, pleading, begging for help.
Desperate.

Light rain.
Louder rain.
Ever louder rain.

And silence.

The same silence that echos around in your head,
and has so much more impact than thoughts ever could.

Still quiet.
Still.

I miss the rain.