storms are rolling in

I need to be here on the now.

Now. That is such an impactful word. It can mean urgency, and exclamation ‼️ can just be you naming the time perceived as the present.

But what is the now? Are you talking about your entire day that has passed? Or is it about this moment right now that I'm here writing this and you are here reading it? Or is it the tomorrow, when you're gonna start putting all of your plans you planned the day before into motion?

What can be considered living here, in the now?

Then I guess I'm gonna be here, on my now, writing a story.

There they were, once again, looking out into the sky and wondering. Pondering. That's what the sky and the horizon always made them feel. Like there was a sea full of possibilities. And where possibilities lie, there is wondering, pondering. Today they looked at the sky and it seemed to bring a warning. The air smelled like wet earth, just how it does when rain starts to fall, but it was not yet raining. But just like your body can antecipate digestion, by making you salivate as soon as you see food, the earth begins to flare up it's scent as soon as the sky gives a hint it's going to pour down the earth and  quench it's thirst. 

That same smell ways brought them back feelings of renewal, as if the rain to come was going to wash the earth and the world anew. And so their feelings would be poured down and dragged down by the water, cleansed. A thirst that they always felt for new beginnings quenched. 

And so the sky was full of possibilities. 

And among them was the sense of peace, that the sky, everyday, is beautiful in different ways. 

The clouds can behave in it in different shapes, and sizes and forms. And they can present themselves in different colours and that does not make them less beautiful. 

The clouds could just stay there looking pretty, or they could rage and rebel and bring up a great amount of damage. It was up to nature really. All these factors that can make something inside the cloud shift and make it pour out. 

But just like every cloud has the potential to become a devastating storm, a cloud can also be a gentle shade in a very sunny day. They can even politely bow down in a cold winter day part and let the sun thaw the freezing tendrils out. 

What are we but clouds in a beautiful tormented sky. One day, everyday, our sky might be different, we can come shaped differently, or have diverging colours, but we're all clouds. We make part of a beautiful sky. 

The sky reminds me of... Me. Gives me peace because it reminds me of it's ever changing nature and so it reminds me of me. And how it's okay if someday it's sunny and others it's pouring rain. 

What I have to offer as an abundant horizon.