I Has Teh Maths

Here, in this spot, years ago, stood a man.

He, amongst a crowd of naysayers, combined the unwitting and unwilling into a force that was unforeseeable, and truely unstopable.

They were not athletes, brainchildren, or artists by any means. They stood, unevenly dressed and gazes aside, waiting for something to happen. They were Apathy Associated, they were the Rain Chasers, they were the Purposeless. They could be found, individually, staring out windows into gray skies; or perhaps watching bugs toil through blades of tall grass. They were, in essence, human.

What combines in the minds of those destined for something greater? Do ties form and unite, through a common bond, or is it like magnetism, unseen but forcefully pulling together the strongest of emotions, letting them boil to the surface and over the sides until there is a flood and a whole room is painted in splashes of color?

How then, do you handle a funeral?
These people, kids, spectators of general existance, were tasked with finding the place to have a funeral. It had to be a hilltop, and raining. It had to be cloudy and gray but still light enough to see perfectly. There had to be many in attendance, but only a few willing to stand in the cold as the casket was lowered into the soil.

Rain Chasers, as they came to find themselves being known, found the spot, not morbid or straining to the eye, simply elegant in it's perfection of emotion. They found the place where all good souls should come to rest.

There, instead of holding a funeral for a life they'd yet to give up on, they planted a tree. They sat and watched as the rain grew it rapidly, as the clouds encouraged it to reach ever higher, and as it sat proudly atop the mighty hill.

Tasked, they were, with finding a place for something good to end.
Instead, they found somewhere for something new to begin.
Is there a difference?

That man, on this day, smiled. Those who would condemn the world, but never gave enough of themselves to try and change it, found their medium. They jumped into orbit and found they could become something fantastic and uncommon. He helped them see with new eyes, through means of old hands tossing fresh dirt.

A poet once sang,

"Oh, this is the start of something good
Don't you agree?"