When all else fails I look for the oncoming of clouds. A portent of peace to my mind. Some see the darkness of them as a foreboding of the torrents to come, whereas I see them as the wash to my otherwise debris crowded mind. When my head gets too full that simple thoughts get fogged, I like to go to where the trees and the rain surround me. I like the higher ground sitting under an evergreen tree. It brings to me memories of a time when time stood still and there were no echoes of sadness in my soul. It brings a peace that is so hard to find.

Would hope to arrive before the rains came so that I might stay dry. And if chance would have it so I would tuck myself under a lean-to made of my poncho and rope. It would be there I would pass the hours just watching, waiting, for a moment to show itself. Sometimes it would be of a small animal scurrying for its own shelter or perhaps a deer or elk meandering through the underbrush in search of food. Sometimes it would only be a clear thought that I could ponder in the serenity the woods and rain had to offer. Yet it is the pounding of hard rain that makes it so.

When I’ve found my place and the rain whispers all around, I find that it drowns out the ringing in my ears brought about by the concussions of yesterday. The small headache that is always present fades in the humidity as it brings forth all the aromas of the wood that had been in wait for freedom. It seems to wash away the sins of the past as well as fill the chalice of dreams for tomorrow. And as it pours out upon me, I can get lost in the cascading deluge as it subdues all else. As the rain comes alive it floods the death that always seems to surround my heart.

And when it comes to pass, I feel renewed and rejuvenated. I feel that there is no more to thirst for; at least for a while. The desert that was, is now a glen of new growth. So, I would then make my way back to my mundane and normal state of mind. Yet I would remember. I would seek the reminiscent rain and hope it would satisfy the thirst until the next drought would come. And as the pains would once again emerge, or the memories would haunt, when the shrieks or screams would bring about headaches again; I will look for the clouds to form on the horizon.