A water drop was sent upon as precipitation from an infinite cloud,
It was but a reminiscent of that infinite water source which enriched the sky.
Clean as the morning dew, colourless and transparent, it began its cycle
It had but one goal, to complete its journey back to that cloud.
And now it has polluted itself with its own vapours, it can’t deny that.
It looks for different vessels to contain its existence
But none could be a more fitting mask for it to hide itself
It tries to blend with water drops of different proportions
But they are immiscible
It sometimes turns into solid, sometimes vapour and sometimes it flows itself,
It is a compound of volatile emotions.
It looks up to the great glaciers with their strong density
But is ignorant to the fact that they will also melt down eventually.
It doesn’t realise that the tranquil waterbody is a symbol of farce,
For the purest water is the one that is always flowing towards the sea.
Perennial is this water drop’s movements, but it seems to have lost its direction.
It now exists as just a drop of water which flows under the bridge,
It wants to free itself from its impurities,
It tries to wash out itself in the rain.
But it forgets that to free from itself the impurities
It must boil itself in the flames.
And now it fears as to if it will evaporate back with nothing accomplished
Or if it will be able to find its way to the infinite ocean.
Just another fear in the dilemmatic life of a drop.
A lonely figure walking past that bridge washed his face with that water,
And the drop, hiding behind his tears trickled down from his chin on a piece of paper.