On some days, when the grieving clouds are heavy, the pounding rain is a relief. Some say rain is nature's symphony, myth goes by it's a widow's tears, alas, even the summer weeps sometimes. The grey clouds are like blurred memories, carrying the heaviness within, the rains are salty tears wept by a lonely kid touring the sky and it thunders everytime those tears descend to the ground. People run for covers and shades, forgetting their lives are already battered by the unsaid silent storms and the children happily drench, dancing to the rain's song, unworried about the complexities of life. We're all paperboats, sailing in life, are paths may diverge, but destination is the same. Some paperboats may float, some may sink, some need a push, some seek help of the wind, but we shouldn't let circumstances define us. When you're happy, even the rain sounds poetic, but when you're aching, even the sound of rain seems like a dead music. Amidst the misty clouds, when everything is dire and bleak, remember to carry light within, to break free from the dark, melancholic sky.