Droplets
It was not a tragedy at first.
It was the smell of oceans,
It was the breeze on mountains,
It was the spring,
It was the autumn,
It was love.
Soon it was raining.
There was the roar of thunder.
The sky shone a mix of purple, red and orange.
It felt like cries from heaven were pouring down heavy on parched soil.
Yet I asked...
“Can I stay here? Please…”
I would not make a lot of noise.
I would not drown in the sorrow within longing.
I would not climb on the clouds of fear.
I would not walk on the road going towards castles.
I would be alive.
And so, like droplets collected on a leaf
In a wintry morning
I live...
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