I fought to push the sleep away, and long beneath the sheet I lay. At last, I rose to start the day, and then the rain came down. The kettle in the kitchen sighed all pensive for what would betide. I sipped my tea all bleary eyed as still the rain came down. I turned the pages to the sound of liquid bullets coming down, and watched my garden slowly drown as loud the rain came down. And though I want so much to stay, that tyrant time pulls me away. I step out bold to meet the fray as still the rain comes down.
“If you are on the wrong road, progress means doing an about-turn and walking back to the right road; and in that case the man who turns back soonest is the most progressive man.” -C.S. Lewis