The rain falls outside, fiercely, reminding us of the many times nature and society has isolated us. Many choose to stay within the confines of safety, out of rain’s way, while others venture out of their boundaries to find some sort of restoration.
Isolation, whether emotional or physical can drive a soul to silent madness.
This madness eventually drives each and every one of us to meaningless smiles, shivering hands and an abundant desire for someone to shield us from the cold and needle-like attack of the rain… someone to open the tattered wood-creeked doors that hold us within the confines of so-called “safety. We long for someone to give us shelter, to hold us, to kiss us, and tell us that they’ll endure nature’s storms by our side. The journey through this treacherous rain, however, is one that not many are able to accomplish. We toss and turn through the woods, falling and grappling on to the muddy ground as we search for the light at the end of the forrest. What happens when we aren’t able to reach the edge of the woods? We lay soulless, almost bodiless, as the rain falls, jabbing us with each and every one of it’s bountifully icy punctures. We curl up in the wet ground, letting each and every sandy grain of earth cover our pores as our bodies find solace and “safety” in the middle of the woods.