The drop

A drop dripped into me and I am a drop dripping. Drop, drop dripping life.

I’m a drop in and of all the oceans.

Clouds. Swamps. Ponds. Lakes. Streams. Rivers.

I’m a drop landing on a leaf, rolling down the leaf, falling, flying through the air, landing on the next leaf. Landing, rolling, falling, flying till I land on the forest floor.

I collect.

I lose myself in something. I find myself in something.

I’m in a puddle reflecting the city.

I’m a tear rolling down a cheek. Mine. Yours.

Through the tensity of this little drop I can see the world around me. Sense the whole world. I melt into what touches me. I merge with what touches me.

I’m a drop of blood. A drop of milk. A drop of sweat. A drop of spittle. I’m a tear.

I’m a tear. I’m a drop of life.

I’m a drop of life, lovingly holding death’s hands hello.

I’m a drop dripping, getting dropped. I’m for a flower. I’m for the trees. I’m for you. I’m for me. I’m to drink. I’m for growth. Viva la vida Frida!

The ugly, the beauty, the angry, the happy, the loud, the unheard.

I’m the spilled. I’m the splashed.

The hum. The hymn. The howl.

I’m small. I’m vast.

I’m dripping in the peripheral venous catheters of the hospitals.

And I’m in the dew of the morning.

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