Pitter patter, the crying of the stars

The sound of thousands of raindrops applauding as they fall to the ground and burst, too heavy to float down the way icy crystals do.

In the midst of a sunny day they fall, encouraging intrigue at the unity of two seemingly opposing weather phases, bringing patches of mist lightened by the suns iridescence.

In the darkness of night they fall, droplets of celestial memories, pains stars are to endure only to shed them and be rid of their inhibitions so they may shine brighter in the night sky.

If it never rained, stars wouldn't appear quite as bright, instead they would burn up from all their interior troubles and implode, the night sky looking instead like endless fireworks ceaselessly.