moisture

it’s when the #rain stops falling that we have to worry, not when it begins. as it #rains, green leafs spring from the earth and raise their bodies skyward to feed #mouths wide open to catch the drops, even by way of taps and pipes. the #rain gives color to the death that would become those who fear its floods more blatantly than could any medicine created by the hand of humans intervening. simple #raindrops fill our minds and our flesh and give life where life was not. when it stops, though. that’s when we must worry. when there is no more #rain; if it comes not, there shall be drought. there shall be heat. there shall be open #mouths awaiting droplets and leaves and they shall be dry and empty of all but feet. the earth is a moist and sultry flesh upon which we are but miniature hairs, preparing to fall. its skin grows warmer, more brittle with age and is burned in the sunlight, drying it and allowing the hair to fall from its no longer smooth surface. nothing turns back time, only slows the process but #perhaps that is enough for skin to recover and #rains to return to replenish the droplets, the leaves, fill the #mouths and satisfy the moist awakenings of the goddess within the land. #perhaps we will be witnesses to the awakening. #perhaps it will be too late. #perhaps it already is.

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