When it rains and storms, waterfalls from the sky and splashes where it meets the ground. Thunder rumbles and growls in the heavens and lightening gives the stage effect of flashes in the dark. Drama! The wind blows and rustles its madness through the threshold of the trees. When it rains, the wind is so cool and fresh, refreshingly so, the air is crisp and clean, tempting that you breathe deeply. The gray skies are the fall of darkness upon us as all of the heaviness stored up in those clouds rapidly come down and drape the tall trees in an aquatic solution of bliss. The clarifying showers become a mist of collaborative sounds like random singing yet in synchronicity, listen to hear the claps, stomps, gasps, laughter, cheers, thumping heartbeats racing like the attack of excitement. It’s Music! Dance; to the sound of the muse called rain. Bathe in the puddles of water that settle at our feet as we move madly and carelessly in the freedom of the beating drums.
Ahh! The screams of madness sound off blazing through the night. The illusion of stillness has fused and faded to the visionary compulsive movement of water. Electricity! Thunderous applause. Standing ovation of thrusting wind blown bushes of forest trees that are only silhouetted for my eyes to glare toward in awe and wonder. Drama, I tell you! The sensation of an energy-filled compilation of climax, orgasmic, so, sensationally, is riveting. Roaring waves of sound off straight to the core of my bones and beyond, blistering with heavy breathing, and a pounding heart, thumping veins almost visible to the watchful naked eye, intently so, adrenal glands surging with activity. Eyes lit up, widely so, aware of the madness around. Primal screams they become, the thriller.
Laugh, cry, tremble, be chilled and draped in goosebumps. Come face to face with your fears, be enthralled with joy, feel our pain, overwhelmingly. Gasp, and lose your breath at the command of our active motives to addict you to your own virtual desires for our body of work. Our bodies at work, working overtime and all the time, timelessly, without concern for the concept of time, for our object is the creative process, as we are creatively so, creating… magic. Observe our magic show, and surely you will ask, by the end of the performance, as though you are certain that we have the answer to all of your paranoid questions of a schizophrenic delusions, attached and trapped to our universe of surrealism, “You art in heaven?”
Open your eyes and look to see the answers to that which you have requested to know. There are no easy answers to all of that and so much more. Yet, behold, the answer to the secrets of the heavens are among you, beyond your quest for worded statement of validation. Observe the trans-en-dance, and know. Feel the rain on your face. Taste the rain on your lips. Drink from the cup that we set before you, and become one with the purely untainted madness of the natural bliss that is the work of the rainmakers masterful hands. Rise above yourselves in the captivity of our realm. Come as you are and embrace this fantasy, world of dreams. Set your mind free and imagine that we are the reality.
In the presence of this network that is our freedom, you cant help but to rise above, in gratuitous hunger and desperate desires and craving to uncontrollably ask for more, that you might share with us this feast at our table. In this world of never ending extending heights of the extenuating high that only the special breed of endorphins can afford you, don’t think of us as a deadly addictive drug. Imagine that our stimulants are called Love, and is life giving, as we will provide inspiration, preserve your vitality, and offer you a faithful hope that in this world is known to be the most pure goodness of a storm-filled outpouring of mad rain, comes only to purify the earth, to refresh the thirsting, to adorn the garden with an upspring of bouquets. We are the harmony. We are the symphony. We are the Children of the Rain Maker.
