If wishes fell like rain, then certainly I am a storm.

Never ending.

I shower upon sunrise for the day to open and bloom with good things.

I shower in the evening, too.

I shower to wash the world in things better than itself.

I’m doing it a favour.

Every day, after the last drops of dew are sucked up by the sun,

I pour until exhausted.

But I keep pouring,

i don’t want it to stop,

it mustn’t stop,

it can’t, it’s impossible!

More, more, more rain, please!

There has to be an infinite supply or the world won’t survive.

-without hope!

Everything will die.

Please. More, please!

I’ve run out.

I feel strangely nourished.