Storm play
I sat at the foot of the hill - Bukit Timah - and watched the show, energized.
Rain coming down in buckets, whipped by the wind, like the swallows, dancing in the currents high above the trees, fully engaged in the movement. Lightening struck here and there, in booming octophonic fidelity, electrifying the air. The music echoed from the clouds to the earth, from Bukit Timah to Bukit Gombak, between the great trees and the buildings. Boom, boom, boom! The trees all clapped their leaves and swayed to the rhythm of the sky, danced to the rhythm of the earth, pulsated with the leaping electrons. Only the swallows dared venture out, twirling and soaring with nature's ensemble, joined to the fleeting liminality while ants and humans scuttled anxiously inside. The voice of thunder takes over during the reversal. Nature rules again; the birds, the trees the hills, the clouds and the earth all rejoice.
Slowly the rain subsides, the wind dies down, the atmospheric charge equalized, the thunder echoes grow distant. The downpour eases to sprinkling and then dripping from the trees. The roar of the storm is replaced by the hum and buzz of traffic. Back to status quo. But it's never the same. Really. The storm is remembered. But earth remembers as the run-off water is stored in the deep wells and lakes. Earth remembers the dance with heaven. We shall again play. The sky shall wash me with the tears of laughter. Come back. Come back again. Tomorrow. Same time.
Rain coming down in buckets, whipped by the wind, like the swallows, dancing in the currents high above the trees, fully engaged in the movement. Lightening struck here and there, in booming octophonic fidelity, electrifying the air. The music echoed from the clouds to the earth, from Bukit Timah to Bukit Gombak, between the great trees and the buildings. Boom, boom, boom! The trees all clapped their leaves and swayed to the rhythm of the sky, danced to the rhythm of the earth, pulsated with the leaping electrons. Only the swallows dared venture out, twirling and soaring with nature's ensemble, joined to the fleeting liminality while ants and humans scuttled anxiously inside. The voice of thunder takes over during the reversal. Nature rules again; the birds, the trees the hills, the clouds and the earth all rejoice.
Slowly the rain subsides, the wind dies down, the atmospheric charge equalized, the thunder echoes grow distant. The downpour eases to sprinkling and then dripping from the trees. The roar of the storm is replaced by the hum and buzz of traffic. Back to status quo. But it's never the same. Really. The storm is remembered. But earth remembers as the run-off water is stored in the deep wells and lakes. Earth remembers the dance with heaven. We shall again play. The sky shall wash me with the tears of laughter. Come back. Come back again. Tomorrow. Same time.
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