In reverie I dance, enraptured by a world of thoughts
And I wish that I could catch them all, but they fall much like raindrops.

I scurry about with my bucket, hoping to all the raindrops taste.
Then I realize that I'd capture more if I'd stand in just one place.

I cry over the drops uncaught, that teased me but moved on.
I raced to seal in every thought, but half of them are gone.

They're buried now within the dirt - land of subconsciousness.
But like the water soaking earth, they cannot be expressed.

Once they've mingled with the ground, their purity is gone.
My most transcendent thoughts, once found, swift to the earth withdraw.

© 2018 Kate Richardson All Rights Reserved

2 thoughts on “Raindrops

  1. A Chicken

    If I were a raindrop falling from a cloud, I might decide that even if I may hit the dirt and be forgotten forever, the truth of my ephemeral existence remains permanent.

    If I were a firework shooting in the sky, I might wish to be smiled and cheered at in those happy moments, so that no one mourns that I will never shoot again.

    If I see a wondrous, colorful, and sweet-smelling garden, I will pause to consider that not a single raindrop was wasted in forming it.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. ❤ What beautiful words, A Chicken. You make a great point. Even if thoughts – or raindrops – disappear to some irretrievable place, they are not wasted. They are merely spent in the inception and unfolding of something bigger – a garden that is the collective culmination of all those individual thoughts and drops – a grand integration of everything that was seemingly "lost", revealed in the form of budding ideas and lucid, vivid, flowering discoveries. The invisible, forgotten droplets nurture and compose a colorful, unforgettable whole.


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