Baptism, Take Two

(oh, hey, and read this poem, it's fantastic. go on... what are you waiting for?)

Today, I stood in the cold Spring rain; barefoot, glasses off, hair down in a tangled mess of not-caring. I breathed deeply as each stinging drop touched me, soaked my sagging jeans and old white t-shirt, my hair, my skin. I had no purpose except to be wet, to be outside, to watch the swirling grey mass of the clouds as they blurred in my imperfect vision. I had no purpose, but the longer I stood there pummeled by the rain I was swept away. Now, I have something, transient perhaps, gone in a hour, or several. But I remember the taste of it as the water brushed my lifted face, washed it away.

I can't remember the last time I've ever felt this pure.