Beautiful Disaster

The rush of the wind.
Pushing everything in it's path in the direction it chooses to go.
Clearly making itself known.

The rain beats hard against my windows and upon the roof.
The way it patters is comforting.
Even with the harsh wind that accompanies it.

Rhythmically falling and hitting whatever gets in its way.

Violent winds return. Forcing almost everything out of its way.
Wrapping up it all and throwing it aside.

Leaving it damaged and torn.

Walking outside. Being forced to fight with nature.
The wind toss aside your hair, and makes you only hold your jacket closer.

The rain sinks into your skin and hair.
Changing your appearance.

Inside and out.

Realizations take place.

But how can you love something so harsh and violent so much?

"The beauty of the rain is how it falls." -- Shawnee Kennington
I agree.

Even if the meaning is different.



Beautiful Disaster