When
the sky becomes a fountain,
I
am a droplet I believe,
falling
sky onto a mountain
I
rest upon a tree’s green leaves.
I
am a mote of nature’s wrath,
long
before I reach the stream,
seeking
but a single path,
I
own myself a single dream,
I
fall unto the forest floor
and
ever journey down and down,
towards
the ocean evermore
leaving
the mountain’s rocky crown
Now
I am a forest brook
coursing
always down the slope,
changing
from the form I took,
to
be the drop again, I hope
But
now I am a river, raging
and
becoming ever larger,
a
downhill warpath I am waging
as
the rain falls ever harder.
I
travel far throughout the wood,
growing
always ever wider,
I
am the flowing river god,
I
am the splashing mountain rider.
I
etch the hills with winding scrawl
eating
‘way at rock and bone,
I
am now a waterfall,
falling,
flying, stretching down.
And
when I, the river, reach the sea,
we
combine and I am gone,
full
of salt but finally free,
forgetting
I was a drop of rain.
But
when the waves stir up my soul,
I
leap and rise above it all,
in
my travels I see the whole,
I
become again the droplet small.
Now
I am the ocean spray,
rising
on the breeze to height,
evaporating
on the way,
I
am mist in sailor’s sight.
Up
and over the dark blue bay,
as
a fog I rise above,
reaching
for the Milky Way,
completing
the cycle that I love.
I
travel far from ocean chop,
and
when the clouds begin to pour,
I
am again a tiny drop,
fated
to be the river once more.
