Ask No More For Reason Or Understanding

There's Nothing Quite Like A Night Garden In The Rain

As the day falls away and the incidental side lamps come on, I am reaching for the gleaming glass of ruby-red ambrosia by my elbow.

And I sip, and I slide off into full soft-focused reverie …

Pink Floyd are laying all life’s nausea out on a softly searing platter … such sweetly sonorous despair so captivating and mind-freeing … 

As the tart rivulets wind down through me, merrying my mood and my constitution, the harsher scrutinies of life are banished and my ship of dreams is untethered.

Soon I am languid on the mellow undulating waters of full-sail retreat … 

And then, a harsh unexpected wind cuts in from my east, to assail me and my lyrical conceit … to ask, again, what does all this matter? 

Come on, I try to say, happiness must be more than an intruding thought  … or random glimpses of lost abandon and delight?

 Oh, this thinking, thinking, thinking things through to tipsily refined befuddlement … 

Sure why don’t I just switch on the TV, or tap on my phone to blindly browse through clickbait scenes of infinite two-minute wonder …  tapping in and sliding out … in and out … next, next … sucked again into this pit of mesmerising frivolity …

Hush, hush now, my logically deluded self, and listen … listen better… catch the rising cadence of that rain softly strafing your unthinking garden …

Give you pause for no thought.

Look up and watch in fascination those expanding silvery globs of infinite translucence suspended briefly from the eaves before they join, one after another, faster and faster, the pocketa-pocketa now of drenching rainfall on the side lit patio.

Draw up your mind fully … and gaze with glistening eyes out across the brilliant bliss of endless greens and verdant moon-lit lushness, as all of nature arches its back in unthinking surrender to this lascivious cosmic cascade … 

No more noise from you, or questioning intransigence … only live this scintillating deluge a moment … at once resounding and enchanting …  drumming and hummlng to its own unorchestrated rhythm … washing warm across the ship’s bow again …  soothing my own din, and absolving me of all wondering …

About endardoo

A newspaper sub-editor for many years, I am now a blogger and freelance sub-editor. Husband of one and house daddy of two: a feisty and dramatic 17-year-old girl and a bright, resilient football nut of a boy aged 16. My website:

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