Of rains and candlelight

The rain arrived. Unannounced. It started pouring as if the skies had given away suddenly.  The steady rhythm of raindrops danced on my window sill. The pitter patter tugged at my spirit and drew my attention to the window.

It was grey and dim outside. The trees and plants were bathing in the rain. The grass on the meadow was drenched in the rainfall. The water drops had found their way and come together in the tiny streams of water flowing down the roads. 

The occasional thunder growled and the lightning sparked, painting the grey skies with white streaks of light. The flowers and leaves were swaying in the wind, free and elated. 

The rain called for a pause. Slowly I was drawn in the rhythm of the rain. I sat down and lit a candle by the window for light and warmth. 

I looked upon the soft glow of the candle wrapped up by the light and shine, the aroma of it hugging me like a warm blanket. 

I felt like writing something. So I thought putting on some music like I always do. But then the hush of the rain outside made me stop. The pitter patter of the rain sounded music to me. So I let the rain guide my writing. 

Slowly the gentle rhythm of the raindrops and my writing fell in sync. The words flowed smoothly and in sequence like the steps of a slow dance. I immersed myself in the writing as the painter does during painting or a craftsman does while carving. 

The hours passed by without my notice. I wrote to my heart's content. Finishing up I felt so content and happy. As if I had been uplifted by an unseen force. I looked out of the window. The air, the trees, the plants, the grass were refreshed and so was I.