Here Comes the Rain Again

Again, again I visualize the sea. It's not the Pacific or the Atlantic. No, this is the sea of my dreams. And it's deeper than any other. It swallows men and women whole. It frightens most people away. There I lie, buttocks lifting off the sandy beach as a gentle wave rolls in and floats me, before gingerly resting me back on the earth and receding into the blue nothing (everything.)

"Here comes the rain again

Raining in my head like a tragedy

Tearing me apart like a new emotion

...

I want to breathe in the open wind

I want to kiss like lovers do

I want to dive into your ocean

Is it raining with you?"

This type of desire can never sustain itself. Do you think that's why Rome fell? But it's not exactly the way you'd describe the Romans. It's the swelling of your heart when the lyrics in a song surprise you, and you wonder, "Maybe love isn't a fairy tale?"

I am looking for the desire that does sustain itself. I'm a scientist with a clip board and a stylish white jacket. I seek out examples, observe them, record them, then repeat. Do you believe in love? Are you settling? What does passion feel like? Pick one: Love or Sex? What happens in a world where you have to pick one and that forces you to forfeit the other?

An arctic blizzard. A frozen heart. Here comes the rain again.