While i was going home, riding an outdated, though considered-to-be-a-modern jinriksha, i was relieved to see signs of pity from the heavens. Rainclouds where abundant. And they were not just any other rainclouds, some of them are as dark as the asphalted road. The once scorching time of afternoon a while ago, was put off by a mob of rainclouds. Though the wind was still blowing sizzlingly grazing my earth colored skin, i was profusely thinking of what-if's. What if the rain falls? Would it, even a measly, assuage the predicament of our fellow earth-tilling Filipinos? Thinking of their predicament, juxtaposing it to the bickerings of the highly supplanted with relieving chill-producing, grumbling machines, they are on the far side of the suffering scale. What would they have to retaliate back at the mischievous nature? What do we have? When nature drops the gauntlet, nothing we have today will slow down its havoc. Having introspected, or at least an effort to do so, made me think of the beauty of a cyclic weather. Come rain, come shine. We are too dependent on nature. Sadly enough, we tend to disregard that dependence and pompously regal ourselves. Humans.


Keeping my head up, i started to feel disappointed. Dispappointed of the hundreds of rainclouds, some of them in a paroxysmic ordeal. Even in numbers they failed to pour the ever-anticipated rain. I notice them, although being many, they are quite scattered, they can't seem to decide a rendezvous point for all of them to gather and make a large clump of raincloud. Nothing is ever accomplished when eventhough your goals are congruent, but when your disperse and unorganized, nothing will ever be done. Dissipated rainclouds is never adequate enough to produce a large enough downpour to relieve the suffering of the landdwellers. They should collaborate, in that way they would be able to establish a stable enough ground to implement their goals.


Night has come, and the day, albeit plethoric with hope, has been done away. The one scorching zephyr has now been replaced by a quasi-chilling moan. I stopped to look at the sky once again before i enter my entrapment (an entrapment where i hide myself in shaky anonymity, all the while efface myself from my scathing inhibitions). The scattered rainclouds awhile ago that had sparked a little flicker of hope within me, were gone. All i see atop the canvass of the night were stars glowing in monochromatic scintillations. Some stars were red, and you won't miss its glimmer. Some are blue, some are plainly white. But amidst their diversity, they never fail to beautify the sky. If the night could express gratitude, it would thank the stars first for its effort of catching the attention of unconscious people. Why do people no longer stop to look at the sky? It may not have the answer to life (nothing is actually), but it does have a panacea-effect. It doesn't take alot to retract your neck up, stare at the wondrous sky. If you are patient enough, you may count the stars. But i suggest you don't. You'll go insane even after reaching a thousand.


Well, forgive my unimaginativeness tonight. With chuck-a-block of school stuffs to think about, the things that paints my thought with diversely waved refraction of light are pushed and set asunder to the darkest basement of my mind. I'm pretty sure that after this week and the week after, my mind will be free once again of a wan imagination. As of this moment, let me just continue to hope for rain to pour down the heavens. It is one of those days that rain is free of odium. We love the rain, don't we? Even a modicum of it is already a gift. So the rainclouds awhile ago, i hope when you do come again, be sure to gather around a rendezvous for no one is effective alone. A dispersed mob, is but an unaware crowd walking their own walks, living their own lives (if there'd be one), thinking their own blank thoughts. Think as one!=]