5/9/2020

Does a drop of water know where it’s going?
Really, is there any way of knowing?
Does it see what’s ahead in its course?
Can it see behind, back to its source?
Does it know there’s a rapid coming soon?
Will it ever feel lost in the monsoon?
Does it get weary on this journey?
Is it ever doubtful of its destiny?
Can a drop of water feel jealousy?
Can it desire to leave a larger legacy?

Never resting, never stopping,
Always moving, always dropping,
Sometimes washing, sometimes mopping.

Never dry, never old,
Always valued, always sold,
Sometimes warm, sometimes cold.

Does a drop of water enjoy being water?
Has it known times of peace and slaughter?
Are raindrops as sad as the mood they bring?
How many drops must fall when it’s pouring?
How many times has that drop been here?
How long has it floated down? A year?
Does a body of water have protestors?
Does each understand how much it matters?
Does a drop of water know to be happy?
All this makes me wonder the same about me.