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.

As I sip, 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, I try to say, happiness must be more than an uplifting thought  … or random glimpses of lost abandon and delight?

 Thinking, thinking, thinking things through to tipsily refined befuddlement … 

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 down 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 …

Let it give you pause for no thought.

Look up and watch in slow-motion fascination those expanding silvery globs of infinite translucence suspended briefly from the eaves before they join, as one after another, faster and faster, they join 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, brain, 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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