dwelling on crumpled pieces of paper

i wrote these pieces quite awhile ago and have totally forgotten about it. i wrote them on a piece of paper until moments ago, found it tattered and crumpled up in my bag.


in time, we all become like shadows, passing through different parts of this large wall with the sun behind our backs

and when the sun finds its highest place, we become nothing.

so much negativity: appropriately so for today. i'm miserable. honestly.
however, on that same piece of paper:



when rain falls, it touches a new surface and embraces it; without question or complain.
the rain holds no grudge, no judgment, no double-standards.
it refreshes all to those under its broken skies.

you have to wonder then, who made the rain fall in such a way ?