It rained today. We felt the Sun, standing behind the clouds with a fuzzy smile. But the clouds rolled heavy and the dripped rain dropped. Behind the mask of this grey sky, the world is orderly and light, but through the cotton wool cloak this world can become a fractal alter ego of itself. Through that distorted passage of time, that perfect egg dropped, leaving just a lifeless shell resting against a pool of muddied water. And all the while, the Sun still stands behind it's walls, with smiles in his hands and laughter at his feet.
I don't mind when it rains. The walls are stained green with thirst stricken moss, and eggs crack the safety of their existence for a sip of air, but I know the rays of the Sun are laced within the creases of my palm.