WHAT WE LEFT BEHIND

For what are feelings but an array of snippets etched in memory...

It rains outside. Yes, it rains. The leaves awash, the roads a muck and over flowing sewers. But, it rains. Buildings flood, cars shut down, activity comes to a halt. And yet, it rains.
I look at it through those huge glass panes that adorn the wall next to me. Bringing back memories, of times long gone, of times just lived, of times forgotten and of times yet to come; all this while, it rains.

Glum bored and lifeless. The craziness seeming a world apart, a long forgotten past. The weather mocks my mood. The joyous rain splashes against the glass, the clouds roar and growl with their unleashed powers, the plants dance in their happiness.

Once, in a different world, I'd have danced along with the greens, played and splashed in the puddles of heavenly waters, content in the ecstatic thinking of the times. We were young, we were happy; oh! so happy, we were a few years away from the torment(ous) reality, a few months away and a few days away.
Its in these times that memories open their floodgates, flow in their unrestricted state into a mind soaked and strained.