My Own Truths

Rain Drops

Move move, stop, move move, fall.
Stop, move move, fall.
Move, fall.

Each drop of rain moves in its own rhythm on the window.
The involuntary journey of the drops controlled by gravity, by the sun.

Every drop leaves a mark, making meaning of their short life.
My window begins to cloud up,
Soon I can't see outside anymore.
Every drop leaves a sound, signaling their arrival.

Drip, drip, drip, never ending torture.
Drip, a slow death may come.
New life rises up.