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The rain fell softly first, tapping the tin roof then slowly, as the minutes pass, the rain strengthens its wrath on the sleeping world as if there was something the earth had done unforgiveable to the sky. Thinking about it, it could be possible why the sky is crying every now and then unto the earth so as to ask for pity to the earth to unbury its stolen item from the sky. But thousand of years of crying isn’t enough, nor the amount of tears sent from above isn’t even the measurement.  What could it be then that one would cry forever to somebody, or one would not feel pity over somebody asking for it? What item could the earth hold that the sky is ready to give its whole life crying?

Thoughts like this kept me awake for hours; sometimes the horizon even starts to lighten before I close my eyes, especially on summer nights where I don’t have any school works to think about and because its those time of the year where the sky shows me how vast thoughts can be. And as for tonight it was past one when the sky told me the story of its pain. Knowing that it is something I will be thinking the whole night, I prepared myself something to eat and made a coffee. And also, I made myself a nest using pillows and blankets. In the corner of my room, near the window, I watched the rain and listened to its story as it tells me straight to my thought, questions I could never have asked before, nor anyone – for now, is it the sky’s purpose to cry over the earth, or is the earth’s purpose to be something the sky could cry over. A cycle no one could really tell for now who’s who.

Sometimes I write my thoughts, thinking that one day I would be able to compile my thoughts and make a book. Sometimes I let them pass. I just lie in my bed and do all the thinking I can do and then forget about them. Tonight I’m letting it pass, like the rain that somehow will just be a part of the earth’s history.

After listening to the song outside my room: the tapping on the tin roof; the soft whispering sound of the wind; I thought about a heart.  The only thing one would cry for eternity; one would surely ask for pity from the thief who stole a heart. “So it is a heart then,” I whispered to the air, “that the earth had stolen from you?” Of course there was no answer. Why would the earth keep your heart then? This time I asked it silently. Of course there was still no reply. Then a thought passed by my mind, because he wants it. Of course, why would somebody steal from somebody else, it could only mean that the thief wants it, or needs it. Because there’s a big difference between ‘want’ and ‘need’. “So he wants it then?” This time I asked it again to the air, and there was no answer. “But, in the end though, we strive to get what we need because we realize we want it – the thing we need.” And there was silence in my thought.

Time passed. The rain stopped and my coffee stained cup with the saucers that was full of cookies were now getting cold, slowly adapting the temperature of its environment. And I also slowly adapt the environment’s somberness. Now there was only drizzle outside. I washed the cup and saucers I used and returned to bed with my blanket and pillows. By the time I was ready to close my eyes the sky has stopped its crying.

Then another thought passed, maybe it was the sky asking for the earth’s heart. It’s possible enough, maybe the earth is just so stonehearted that the sky cries over and over again hoping one day the earth’s stone heart would somehow soften and would let in its surface live the life the sky has been giving. Or it could be that sad love story where they were never meant to be together, forever the sky will cry over the earth just to show it is the only way to show it’s love, and the earth on the other hand will try to shake itself forever trying to leave it’s place, hoping one day it will be able to fly into the sky. After some time, the rain stopped, leaving the earth swimming in tears. It was gloomy, as I made my final glance outside my room, which gave me a final thought.

It could also be that the sky is crying for the earth is already dead, and it will mourn for eternity expecting that time will come when the earth will be alive again. There could be an endless story for these two characters, and only they can tell why things are happening around us; between them. And before I finally close my mind to these thoughts that could not have certain reasoning for the man, another one struck me, and with question how many characters could have a story like the sky and earth, these midnight stories would never end. Only humans die.

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