Sitting quietly editing the combined ramblings of mine rather furtive writings I am quite suddenly overpowered by the fearsome sound of rain falling in deluges upon the skylight above mine head. Such a noise of power, of unstoppable cleansing, the world being in a moment washed down like some piece of dust covered detritus to be capable of sparkling without equal once more under the next beam of brilliant sunlight. Not that I am suggesting that the earth necessarily needs cleaning, in comparison to the human mind and imagination, the depths of depravity and destruction our species is more than capable of, the planet remains quite pristine and wholly virginal.
Weather is a great unchangeable in our experience, whatever out wishes, desires, needs, the climatic gods remain aloof to our insistences. You may hide, disappear for years into the bowels of constructions or indeed the ground itself, but upon your return to the exterior what greets you will be nature at her most elemental, unpredictable, and unapologetic.