right as rain

As I lay in bed last night all was silent save the gentle drumming of the rain. The rhythmic sound of the sky descending to the earth lulled me into a dream in which I was standing on a deserted market square. I looked down and realised that I was a cold stone statue bound to this unknown, isolated place. Grey clouds congregated in the vacant heavens and as the rain’s descent settled into a joyous symphony a soft, small voice said: “Stone walls do not a prison make…”

When I woke up I thought of what the great Italian poet Dante Alighieri said, “I wept not, so to stone within I grew.”  When I am faced with pain my autopilot reaction is to swallow back the tears and coat myself in layers of impenetrable stone,  but as C.S. Lewis said, “Your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one… Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket- safe, dark, motionless, airless–it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable.”

In my dream the rain gently roared, wearing away my stone exterior. As Lucretius said, “The drops of rain make a hole in the stone, not by violence, but by oft falling.”

Open up the sky, fall down like rain…

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