Rain, cascading down my windowsill.

Bringing Life. Effervescent.
Falling upon the pavement.

Making its beautiful music.

The soft pitter-patter lulling me to sleep. I dream of wondrous places.

Shining with light.
Joyful creatures.

A place where all are happy and carefree.

A utopia where only the pure of heart frolic.
A place where the setting sun vanishes

behind the horizon, leaving an even more
glorious night.

Stars glistening against the black ink sky.

Paint poured on a canvas.
Running in all directions.

No margins to obstruct this beauty.

You reach towards the moon trying your
hardest to touch it.

You succeed. Your fingers come away, slick
with white creamy paint.

It upsets you, for now you realize that this
is only a painting.

It dawns on you that only in your dreams can
someplace this magnificent exist.

You reach out.

Touching every tree, flower, star and every
blade of grass.

Your hands; a swirl of different colors.

Running through the fields you see the first
rays of day starting to peak out from behind
the snow-capped mountains.

“Not yet.” You think.

You want this night to be eternal, but to no
avail.

These stripes of light burst forth,
illuminating anything and everything.

“Not now, it’s too soon.”

Your dream is slowly coming to a close. Your
eyes flutter open slowly.

The rain has stopped leaving behind a hazy
horizon.

Gray and lifeless.

How you wish you could return to the land
where the colors are vibrant and the music
is heard in every object.

Your colors.

Your music.

Not this harsh reality with its melancholy
existence.

Life and light are not known here.

Once again, hopefully, you will return to
those rolling hills and jet-black sky.

But for now, the life full of misery and
heartache is what you must face.