She couldn’t stop the rain, that heavy rain. It fell and fell. He turned off the room fan so that she could listen more deeply. February rains; how odd and disconcerting for we sense we are in April but we know we are in February and the gutters are full and filling and draining and he left early for an appointment.
She lit a red candle and crawled back into bed with a book, but her thoughts were elsewhere as it rains and flows and soaks. Something is amiss when it pours in the month of hearts…
She kept reading and reading. It was the most sacred of escapes; an unquenchable stream of truth and beauty and human struggle; printed on paper with the purpose to bring things back into balance. She turned pages and knew once again, there was nothing new in the human experience. Every emotion she felt had been at one time or another time felt by someone else in different rooms under different skies.
She calmed down, gathered her thoughts, lifted up the rich burden of life, hoisting it full bellied onto her shoulders and determined to go on. Going on in the month of hearts…
690 Saint Paul 