It has tap-tapped so gently through my long road of memories. Dusting off the film until I see what’s there. Rain is a song I never get tired of hearing.
Is it a figment of your imagination? Or the fragments of a memory?
And then as swiftly as it came, it is gone. Just passing through. Rounding the bend out of town. Gone to take root some place else.
But then a swath of blue would light the way and I knew I had found the sky. Which meant if I just stopped to look down, I would find my path.
and loved and where all your yesteryears are buried deep, leave it any
way except a slow way, leave it the fastest way you can. Never turn
back and never believe that an hour you remember is a better hour
because it is dead. Passed years seem safe ones, vanquished ones, while
the future lives in a cloud, formidable from a distance.”
– Beryl Markham, West With The Night