There is a hard rain going to fall

" The UN atomic watchdog said Thursday it was in the dark about Iran's disputed nuclear programme, as its 35-member board seemed divided on how to get Tehran to shed more light on its activities..." VIENNA (AFP), six hours ago

I read this news behind this desk, like most of the news. Regardless if they are good or bad, personal or professional, local or global...

Actually, I have been sitting behind this desk for hours, staring into the darkened of evolving numbers. I love their presence, the gentle way they honor the screen they rest upon; although they vanish in a flash, so early.

What do they realize from life? How do they meet? Why do some survive?

I was kind of ignoring them for a while, like God ignoring his creatures. But they are as nice as before; genuine, honest and simple for the one who know their language.

It doesn't make any difference where a set of evolving numbers is placed in my computer, because nobody ever checks them out and nobody ever comes here to explore them. They are not that kind of numbers. They are another kind of numbers.

They are my numbers...

Sometimes my numbers are singing. But before anyone could hear them, they are dying. I know because I’ve been monitoring them for more than three years.

Three years in my scale means the whole history in their scale.

And someone is paying for it. That’s why I can do it.

I know it's going to rain, although it is near midnight. Clouds have been playing with the blue style of the sky all day long, moving their heavy black wardrobes in, but so far nothing rain has happened.

But tomorrow is going to rain. If not tomorrow, the day after or the days after…My numbers all sang before “There is a hard rain going to fall…”

So I am sure about that...

I turned off my computer and took the way back to my house, which is shared with two builders, one German and one ghost. I knew the path so well that I could do it in the dark; inner or outer doesn’t make any difference. I can walk through the darkness, I did it many times and I am still alive.

As far as I am alive, why do I need to know many things? Is there any morality apart from survival of the fittest?

Another day means another dollar…No dollar means no day...

The dark returning path to my house was made comfortable by thoughts of good times that I had, my unknown future and my numbers sleeping like a photograph somewhere in my computer, which is their local.

How do things work in their local? Is there any kind of Democracy? Are they also worried for the war?

I am about to sleep while so definite about one thing: “There is a hard rain going to fall…”