The sky after rain

I have no idea why I keep looking up, at the sky today. Perhaps it's because it reminded me of something. Something I couldn't quite put into words. Something I sensed but was unable to identify. It's 4:42 in the afternoon. The sky began to change. As is often the case when the heart is peaceful but not quite at peace, I became aware of it while doing nothing specific, simply sitting by my window and allowing the time to pass. A feeling that stirred beneath the surface, just enough to make me pause. The light went white. Like thoughts swarming in my mind, the clouds gathered together.

And the wind? Well, it started talking a little louder, perhaps as a warning rather than in rage. The thunder is coming. Everything seemed to be holding its breath. The birds vanished. The leaves began to move, not in chaos, but with rhythm. As if they were dancing for the storm, welcoming it like an old friend returning after too long.

The sky looked bruised. Not the kind of blue that follows you in summer songs, but the kind that aches. I mean, not even bruised blue, they are almost grey for me. Not with rage, but with a kind of sadness that needs to be released. Like they match the quiet ache inside, the part of you that rarely speaks but never stops feelings.

I adore gloomy clouds. They just perfectly match our vibes sometimes, don’t they? They feel honest. They don't pretend to shine when they're falling apart. On days like this, I feel understood.

The rain was what I waited for. Without even knowing it, I was waiting , craving it. And then, it rained. Not all at once, but slowly. It was like the sky was trying to decide whether it should cry or not.

I watched the world blur behind the water. Trees become shapes, cars become shadows. And somehow, it felt safer that way. Like the rain was drawing a curtain between me and the city. I didn't want clarity. I wanted the comfort of not having to see things so clearly.

And then it was over. No dramatic thunder, just stillness.

I noticed something unexpected after the final drop had fallen and the quiet had returned.

The sky changed again. It wasn’t heavy anymore, It seemed to have poured all of its weight into the earth. It was soft, like an apologetic whisper.

There was light again, and the sun was peeking through, silver-lining the clouds. The kind of glow that makes you forget things. The kind that makes you believe healing is possible.

The rain had long withdrawn into silence, leaving behind the scent of earth, washed clean, and leaves glistening with leftover tears. And just when I thought the sky had offered all its feelings, it gave one last gift. And then, there it was;the sunset.

It didn't arrive all at once but, like a gentle surprise, first came the golden glow and the way yellow bloomed at the edge of the clouds. It was mesmerising. It coated the sky with a hue of forgiveness, a kind of ending that doesn’t hurt as much anymore.

I watched as the sun lowered itself delicately, as if it were pouring out its soul after a long performance. Sometimes, the most beautiful things come right after the end, when the sky remembers how to be soft again.

Sunsets are beautiful, aren't they?

And I realised something. The sky had taught me a lesson today. Not in words, not in anything loud. But in the quietest, most profound way. It had shown me that it's okay to break down, to weep, to feel heavy. And it had shown me that, release is possible. That after every storm, no matter how quiet or how loud, there comes a moment of peace. There comes a light.

# Photo you see here was taken by me- my way of keeping pieces of the sky