September Rain

As I type, I see raindrops forming on my window pane...
Rain.... irony in itself.
Part of the system that brings forth life, yet fearsome monster of nature if left unchecked...

I read the latest Pratchett, a satirical spoof on the DV Code.
I'm sure he doesnt mean to evoke such sentiments and and feelings as he wrote that comic nonsense, but as I read my last sentence of it, I cannot help but feel this overwheliming sense of IRONY.

A spoof on a spoof of a spoof. A satire on a cynic's view of truth... how... apt.

The darkness within, resonanting with the darkness without.
The flicker of the inner light, reflecting the shadows that clouds the eyes.

In the shadows do we hide from the harsh, uncompromising sun.
In the shadows do we rot, as mould and mildew claim our substance.
In the darkness do we transact in the deals unseen, profits unclean.
In the darkness do we die, as greed and wrath claims our sanity.

What are shadows but that which light does not shine on?
What is darkness but where light in absence of?

Can the blind know what is light? perhaps.
By smelling the odours of a sun-drenched field;
By tasting the sweetness of sun-ripened fruits;
By feeling the heat of sun-heated stones.

Even if you live in the world of the dark, you will somehow feel the light.
Where can we run? How can we hide?

We wait for the rain to stop.