I ask the rain for answers but it offers no reply, just a gentle tip tip tap annointing my forehead. I want to speak the same words as the indifferent sun or babble with the brooks in quiet flowing tones. So much remains unknown. In thousands of lifetimes we may, together, learn a word of an infinite lexicon. I try to converse with the wind but it does not answer back. With soft and tender hands it ruffles through my hair.