I Like a Good Quote
The Touch of God----(Autobiography of a raindrop)
I am a raindrop. I keep going around in circles. Hence, if I were to describe my journey, I could as well, begin at any point—for instance, at the point where I was fast asleep, deep inside the bosom of the earth.
It was a long, deep sleep. Yet I recall having dreamt the skies. I might have tossed and turned in my sleep. For, on waking up, I found myself resting against the root of a tree. The next thing I did was to climb up the root of the tree. And then for a while, I had dwelt inside this tree. Here, I met many raindrops. We laughed and played and shared many a happy moment; springing from branch to branch and playing hide-and- seek around the tree. One day, I realized that some of my folk were leaving for somewhere. They would leave and never return. I soon found out that we all were destined to go somewhere; each one a lone traveler, sculpting his own way. I travelled along unknown roads for an unknown destination.
One fine sunny morning, I found myself resting on a leaf of the tree and from there, I could see the skies; the very skies that I had dreamt. I felt it was time I moved on. A ray of light, which might have sensed my state, lent me a hand. The waiting winds buoyed me up, and soon, I was gone. I rose as if on a magic carpet. It was a marvelous journey. I followed the light steadfastly, making my way through sheets of strong winds and impossible obstacles. There was delightful pandemonium, for there were millions and millions of raindrops along the way, some bound for the skies, and some, for the earth. In the course of this journey, I gathered dust and smoke and noxious elements, as well as the fragrance of flowers, the songs of the seasons, and the calm of solitude. But the heat of the days tempered me and the chill of the nights chastened me.
On reaching the heavens, I was tossed and flung around by the fury of raging winds. They scattered me into smithereens and carried me along with them, composing and recomposing me over and over. I had become the winds.
There was light of the purest white, which however, manifested in myriad colors through me, transforming me into a rainbow. Yes, I remember clearly, I was once a rainbow—a rainbow bedecking the immaculate beauty of the boundless span of the horizon. Then there was darkness: profound, all-consuming darkness, in the depths of which I was left seeking for myself and finding nothing, but darkness. Was I, then darkness itself?
Before long, I realized that all of this was part of a plan, an abstract yet definitive design; for I found myself being steadily assimilated into a huge, heavy cloud. Here, I once again met all the raindrops of the past. Raindrops that I had loved, raindrops that I thought I have lost, raindrops that had filled my little cup of life and all of a sudden vanished as completely as if they had never ever existed. It was a great get-together for us. The earth tugged us and we felt like little children that had strayed away from their mother, now yearning to get back to her. I glided down through gales and blizzards, dust and smoke, through the warmth of sunlit days and through the thrills of moonlit nights, like a sleepwalker, an enchanted being drifting in a hypnotic trance, a drop of tear; a bead of pearl.
And one dark stormy night, when the wayward winds were ravishing the virgin lands and the trees were dancing in weird frenzy as if possessed by some powerful spirits, while the heavens celebrated something by bursting the crackers of thunderbolts, and angry streaks of lightning ripped the skies apart, I quietly seeped back into the bosom of the earth—a raindrop…unseen, unheard —and was once again, fast asleep deep inside the bosom of the earth. Here, I began my journey.
Mine is thus, my friend, an endless journey through existence and non-existence; life and death. I might be a raindrop; or perhaps, the winds, the skies, day, night, light or darkness. Yet, what I seek to escape is my own invincibility, my own immortality. So, there is a persistent prayer in my heart—to be blessed with a touch of His finger tips. A touch that will wake me up from sleep, wake me up from my dreams, wake me up from consciousness, perception, and from time. And once I am blessed, I will leave—for once and for all…having outlived eternity.
I am a raindrop. I keep going around in circles. Hence, if I were to describe my journey, I could as well, begin at any point—for instance, at the point where I was fast asleep, deep inside the bosom of the earth.
It was a long, deep sleep. Yet I recall having dreamt the skies. I might have tossed and turned in my sleep. For, on waking up, I found myself resting against the root of a tree. The next thing I did was to climb up the root of the tree. And then for a while, I had dwelt inside this tree. Here, I met many raindrops. We laughed and played and shared many a happy moment; springing from branch to branch and playing hide-and- seek around the tree. One day, I realized that some of my folk were leaving for somewhere. They would leave and never return. I soon found out that we all were destined to go somewhere; each one a lone traveler, sculpting his own way. I travelled along unknown roads for an unknown destination.
One fine sunny morning, I found myself resting on a leaf of the tree and from there, I could see the skies; the very skies that I had dreamt. I felt it was time I moved on. A ray of light, which might have sensed my state, lent me a hand. The waiting winds buoyed me up, and soon, I was gone. I rose as if on a magic carpet. It was a marvelous journey. I followed the light steadfastly, making my way through sheets of strong winds and impossible obstacles. There was delightful pandemonium, for there were millions and millions of raindrops along the way, some bound for the skies, and some, for the earth. In the course of this journey, I gathered dust and smoke and noxious elements, as well as the fragrance of flowers, the songs of the seasons, and the calm of solitude. But the heat of the days tempered me and the chill of the nights chastened me.
On reaching the heavens, I was tossed and flung around by the fury of raging winds. They scattered me into smithereens and carried me along with them, composing and recomposing me over and over. I had become the winds.
There was light of the purest white, which however, manifested in myriad colors through me, transforming me into a rainbow. Yes, I remember clearly, I was once a rainbow—a rainbow bedecking the immaculate beauty of the boundless span of the horizon. Then there was darkness: profound, all-consuming darkness, in the depths of which I was left seeking for myself and finding nothing, but darkness. Was I, then darkness itself?
Before long, I realized that all of this was part of a plan, an abstract yet definitive design; for I found myself being steadily assimilated into a huge, heavy cloud. Here, I once again met all the raindrops of the past. Raindrops that I had loved, raindrops that I thought I have lost, raindrops that had filled my little cup of life and all of a sudden vanished as completely as if they had never ever existed. It was a great get-together for us. The earth tugged us and we felt like little children that had strayed away from their mother, now yearning to get back to her. I glided down through gales and blizzards, dust and smoke, through the warmth of sunlit days and through the thrills of moonlit nights, like a sleepwalker, an enchanted being drifting in a hypnotic trance, a drop of tear; a bead of pearl.
And one dark stormy night, when the wayward winds were ravishing the virgin lands and the trees were dancing in weird frenzy as if possessed by some powerful spirits, while the heavens celebrated something by bursting the crackers of thunderbolts, and angry streaks of lightning ripped the skies apart, I quietly seeped back into the bosom of the earth—a raindrop…unseen, unheard —and was once again, fast asleep deep inside the bosom of the earth. Here, I began my journey.
Mine is thus, my friend, an endless journey through existence and non-existence; life and death. I might be a raindrop; or perhaps, the winds, the skies, day, night, light or darkness. Yet, what I seek to escape is my own invincibility, my own immortality. So, there is a persistent prayer in my heart—to be blessed with a touch of His finger tips. A touch that will wake me up from sleep, wake me up from my dreams, wake me up from consciousness, perception, and from time. And once I am blessed, I will leave—for once and for all…having outlived eternity.
By:
jbfriendonli
Age:
31-35
,
Male
