Cometh the Rain (Part 1)

The sun hung like a golden bauble decorating a cerulean sky. Basking in the pleasures of its gleaming self, the celestial body shone and shone and shone regardless of our wishes, as if predicting what we below desired rather than asking the question. A constant Christmas, our personal star, our gift, blazed above with the beaming smile of a demented patron, and all we could do was accept its citrine self. We had no choice. Who could blot out the sun?At the sixth month of relentless sunshine, a certain someone, who for now shall remain nameless, made the cataclysmic decision to correct God’s supposed slight. He would reinstate the clouds and with it that precious resource the rain. Life would return to its blissful ways, Eden reborn. His message, more idealistic dream than practical proposal, inspired others to aid him in his task. I’m ashamed to say I was one of them even if my heart was not in it. “Cometh the rain,” he’d said. “Cometh the man.” Who knew what it meant if it meant anything at all? In truth, who cared?To Be Continued…

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