The rain began to fall harder, and it distracted me. I tried to pull myself back, because I felt on the verge of understanding something large and important. It seemed to me that this moment, the light and wind, the sweep of fields, the falling of the sky, captured a sort of life that I have longed for, a life of order and harsh beauty. It seemed instead to be the thing for which I must daily give up my life, an act of submission to something I could not name and only rarely, in moments such as these, have a sense of. Life during these moments seemed neither lost nor ruined but a power to be shared. And devoured.
