In the midst of terror Sounds of the pounding clapping of open hands rolling Over my ears Like deep blue roaring waters Overflowing a mountain top.

The edges becoming smoother with every bump From Mother Earth pure like unto Milky-Way shaped clouds after the sweet scented rainfall at dusk Without the desent of the sunset.

When the sense of just being alive is fulfilled with this very serene moment.

During my boyhood, the sound of the rain pulsating upon our tin rooftop Was like listening to a Steel band from Trinidad playing every note to precision.

The scene brings memories Of smiling faces and rooms full of laughter for the blessings of God.

The rain to quench the thirsty Dry fields and increase The drought strickened streams. Life withour water means no life at all... Physically.

One soul needs Jesus more than water itself to sustain the life that doesn't End.