There are nights, thick and humid, where you lie in bed awake, praying for rain, waiting for the drums of thunder, anxious for the first drops of a tempest. No matter what you do on nights like these, toss, turn, covers on or off, you just can't sleep. You can only lie there, drenched in your own sticky sweat and coated with the dry dust from the parched lands you passed through all day. No matter what you do, you're just miserable.
If only it would rain. It seems like such a simple wish to ask for from the gods, but still, they will not relent.
Sometime later (for time on this night, has long since lost its meaning), there is a faint tapping on the roof. Thunder echoes from somewhere in the distance. You breathe a sigh of relief. As the rain grows stronger, you can practically feel the cool air flooding your room like water in a sieve.
You race to the window to throw it open, where the fine mists of cool droplets lightly coat your warm face. You deeply inhale the wet night air, as you dream of who else is finding salvation in this storm.
Images begin to fill your mind.
Somewhere, a mystic stands alone atop a hill, letting the rain trickle down his neck and all over his body. He has been waiting for this day for a long time. He turns his face towards the sky, every breath he takes is a prayer of gratitude.
In a garden, a flower on the edge of death, senses the rain, and readies itself. As the drops penetrate the dusty ground, life springs back into it. Where once was a poor withered and yellow creature is now green and strong.
There is a man in some crowded city, inside his office way past open hours, trying to write something on paper with a pen, but the heat and humidity have made him drunk, and each time he thinks he has something, there is something wrong with it, and he crumples up the paper and adds it to the pile that he started earlier that night. There is nothing he can do to console his senses. Just when all hope seems lost, he hears the rain. He steps over to the window, squinting outside in disbelief. But it really is the rain. He can't help himself; he runs outside to the sidewalk, and by the light of the street lamp, he dances for joy: a bizarre rain dance with no sense of rhythm. He doesn't care that he has neither coat nor umbrella, or if there's a chance that someone's watching him, he just lets the savage in him rejoice. The ink, sweat and sin are washed away, and join the rest of the water that ebbs and flows like a river in the street below.
Elsewhere, in some far off field, a woman runs out of her car, and she is met by her long lost lover's embrace. She believed him to be dead until he called her earlier that day and told her to meet him here. As she left, thunder grumbled, but she didn't care. Nothing would stop her from finding him. Their tears mix into the cascading sheets of rain; no one can tell them apart. There is love in every drop that trickles down their skin and drips from their water-logged hair. The cold that sneaks in through their clothes into every pore and into bone is as gentle as a mother's embrace, especially after such a long suffering.
It is as if all gathering tension of the world has been released after waiting anxiously for so long. So, the sky erupts with rain. But it is clear to you now; only love can make it rain.
As you rest your head against the cool window, gradually you return back to your dark bedroom, where the rain outside your window and hammering on your roof is still going strong. Finally, your room seems tolerable enough to sleep in, so you slip back under the covers and close your eyes. You didn't feel tired earlier, but the rain has had a cleansing effect on your soul; you feel more relaxed than you can ever recall.
The song of the shower and occasional growl of thunder is your lullaby, as you dream of standing on the edge of a desolate field, your soaked clothes in a pile beside you. You look down towards the earth to feel the cool drops of rain slither down your back. Though the air is cold, your singing heart and soul keep you warm.
Feel the love. It rains over you.