When the rain comes down. You can yell. You can scream. You can run. You can hide. And you can curse the clouds for bringing this downpour but no matter what you do, it will not stop the rain. It will only stop when it is destined to.
You can build shelter, you can build refuge, you can build yourself to be rock and weather the storm, but it will not stop the rain.
The rain is stress. The rain is sadness. The rain is your life beating you down again and again. An unrelenting torrent of bad news, injury, heartache, and calamity.
The rain can be so heavy, it begins to soak your clothes. Weighing you down. It begins to soak your hair. You feel the weight of this water even if the onslaught lets up momentarily. It does not dry, it does not go away overnight. The rain can begin to pool around you into puddles and streams. It can surround you and move through you, seemingly swallowing every dry piece of land in your view.
The rain will not stop no matter what you do.
The rain can begin to flow harder. The wind comes with it, and the water is rising around you. There is no dry remaining and only dark water is around you. You can swim and you can grasp at nothingness, but the liquid is impermanent, it wisps through your fingers and is a fleeting cold that embraces you and escapes you all at once. A juxtaposition of company and desolation.
The rain may not stop until a flood consumes you.
Engulfs you.
Makes it impossible to remember what it was like to walk, and not swim.
The rain won't stop.
The rain won't stop.
But you can choose to continue as well. Outlast. Swim. Build. Weather. Water over rock.
Be rock. Dirt and sand and solute will move and flow and sway with the movement of the dark water. Rock will not. Be rock.
Let the flood surround you, but be unmoved. Unbowed and steadfast against the circulatory pulse of stream. Be rock. The rain won't stop.
A single rock can split a river. A single rock giving away can let loose a dam. Be rock, And be steadfast. The rain won't stop.
You cannot stop. Out last the flood.