The sound of the rain upon the skylight pleases me this morning, but the storm makes the world dark as I’m longing to see the light of the sky. I close my eyes and listen to heaven’s tears against the glass; the soft, uninterrupted percussion is like a sort of lullaby. I am mesmerized, and as the sky falls upon the earth, my dreaming soul is rising to some plane unknown. Outside, the earth is undoubtedly grown soft and wet; a foot easily slips or sinks in the mud. If they find the body, will they not say he slipped?
Falling Apart | Part I
Tale Told 