love
is the
constant movement of
the ocean
that
shifts
the sand
between
the shores

My love
Is a poem translated  
Meaningless

Between the lines
It germinated
And bloomed
And floundered
In the memory of
The fallen flower


Wounded seriously
Fighting
With the insects
Buried themselves
Between the petals
My poem
Now
Is a morsel of
Crumbled words

Translated by the unknowns
With the pen
Filled with poison
This fallen poem itself
Is my love.

The raindrop
Stands alone
Then escapes the cloud
Like a skydiving soldier on mission
Whose face is proud.
It stands alone
In its descent,
Only to embrace the ground
As if it had a hand to hold.

But the earth is dry
And land is cold.

The rain drop is simple
And cool at heart.
Its thoughts so fickle
To make the foolish smart,
Yet I sometimes wonder
Were it sentient would it ponder
The significance of a lifetime between earth and yonder
And the sentiment of finding a purpose fonder.

For we are all like raindrops solitary
With a finite life span, temporary.
Some stand alone, and some find another
To join together and become stronger.

The lonely raindrop stands alone
But every raindrop makes the planet whole.

Mother Earth awakes, smiles at thunder
And says, “Mr. Lonely Raindrop: you have a home.”