Space

Hiding from my sight,
The drops fell incessant,
Silently besides my ears.

Watery veil softens the sight,
Sheltering our eyes from,
the suns created by the night.

Across the vacuum,
Light traces its path,
Caught by falling rain.

The formless given form,
Made solid by temporality,
Enmeshing us in a golden web.

That which veils us,
Writes our horizons,
And shows us the Moment.


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I am in love... with the rains, the winds and the streetlights. I can spend my time watching the rain dances for the lamps. And watch as the rain catches the lights and scatters them in a thousand directions. Light was never to be caught, its path never to be seen. But in the rain, for that split second, you can almost see it travelling past. The rain which often simply obstructs our sight, suddenly shows us so much more.

Who is to say that what blinds cannot show us what things truly are?

I derived my inspiration from the rain a night ago and from my dialogue with ^dante on the idea of Kantian space as he drove me home. Kant believed that space is neither a relationship between objects nor a quality with an independent existence, but an intuition inserted into our perception by our mind.

But it seemed like while I watched the rain, I could almost touch it....



P.S: If I made any error in my usage of Kantian terminology, please tell me. I am really out of touch with philosophy, having given wings but not allowed to fly....