Cycling in the rain today
Instead of a thought experiment, I tried a Physics one.
For a change, it worked-
If I went a certain speed, the rain didn’t drench me.
They talk about the beauty of Physics
But you see, the rain is not beautiful
Because of physics-
Vector additions and relative velocities
Could never capture it,
A single arrow and a Greek letter
Just aren’t enough;
Because even though they’re three-dimensional,
The rain isn’t.
The rain contains multitudes
More than the paltry seven of its flamboyant brother;
Rain is the shy sister,
The chill dude who’s lost the ability to be drunk at all
The noisy neighbourhood gossip
The belligerent goddess.
Rain is the soft, tinkling melody of the harp,
The thoughtful moans of the violin
But it’s also a rock band-
The passionate beat of the drums,
The electric guitar’s badass solo
The powerful singer’s voice.
Rain is your soaked t-shirt
Hugging your soaked body,
Water which makes your scalp its drum
Water from an unseen faraway ocean
Still salty, dewing on your lips
Coursing down your skin
Like the thick, red liquid inside.
Rain is the Earth’s mentor
Revealing hidden sights
And its hidden smells
Which can get you higher than any drug ever could;
Even the stately stoic tree swaggers in its drugged dance
You’re only human.
Rain is the emissary of the wind
On whose wings bronze leaves fly,
Which blows your hair back
And makes your shirt ripple
And sprays you with rain’s fine mist.
Rain is not
The grey melancholy cloud
In a depression cartoon,
It’s the tonic of the parched blue sky and the thirsty earth
The lease of life for a latent flower
The muse of a poet with a bicycle.
Rain is complex, with infinite multitudes
Even a poem can’t explain;
How can a vector?