The rain doesn't ask it falls anyways soft or heavy gentle or wild touching everything without hesitation. People are strangers to the sky like they've forgotten where they come from like they aren't made of the same cloth bodies made of water forgetting a stain doesn't matter more than the moment thinking the fabric is more important than feeling afraid that rain might wash away who they pretend to be the orchestrated appearances that they hold worried about small inconveniences that disappear by tomorrow. But, I step into it I yearn for it I let it soak through the fabric feel the textures against my skin through whatever distance I've built between me and the world I take it as a small reminder of where I come from of who I am because in that moment I can feel everything a signal that I'm alive physical proof that I'm here that I exist in this body that I'm not separate from the sky above me or the earth touching my feet the rain doesn't expect anything it just falls proudly and I get to part of it this feeling isn't complicated not learned nor taught it exists within those who allow themselves to feel it water meeting skin breath meeting air life meeting life and in that moment I'm not think about tomorrow or yesterday or what I should be I just exist alive, human, standing in the middle of something that refuses to be controlled. Rain doesn't ask me to be anything It just reminds me that I already am therefore I am