The cloud sailed slowly over the land as it had done for thousands of years. The rain sailed with it feeling dirty and despondent. The rain had known
the pain, joy and dirt of a thousand empires as they rose and fell. The blood of countless tyrants, kings and soldiers had all eventually come to know
the rain and its slow, methodical and relentless action. It had washed blood from the land, tears from the grieving and dirt from the healing. Each
time it fell it felt sad, dirty and abused. Sometimes it joined rivers, sometimes seas and oceans, depositing the dirt and blood, and each time it
rose to become rain waiting to fall again. The rain had seen so much tragedy that it had become depressed. The purpose of the rain had helped the
world countless times through the aeons and yet it felt helpless. Doomed to a cycle of cleaning up the mess of the world.
The rain raged and fell once more on a patch of land that had not seen rain for many a moon. It sighed as it fell, all the while knowing it would help
the land become fertile once more. Years passed and the rain knew suffering unlike any mortal. The rain wanted nothing more than to be beautiful yet
the endless cycle of dirt and death prevented this. The rain wanted change, not dirt and destruction.
And then it happened. Almost without warning the rain changed forever. Instead of feeling dirty and ugly and used, it began to feel light, happy and
free from its cloudy domain. As it fell the rain looked at its beautiful new body, full of structure and beauty, each piece unique in an almost cosmic
way. It had been waiting for this moment for what seemed like eternity and it felt good and right. It sighed a gentle relief.
The snow fell slowly covering the land in a soft cold blanket. The rain was finally at peace.
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