A droplet greets its kin,
On that silken surface,
Dark and blue,
Coming over, echo-relayed,
Broken now,
In unrest; aggrieved.
Landing from its leaf-jump,
Smashing a preconceived
Image into pieces,
As if he were laughing at us.
Educating, in the might
Of the small.
It grazes our legs,
That are here without permission,
In the lulled dwelling of
Reversion, where headlong soldiers
Go to war, in search of their place
Among the lake.
In defiance, indefinition,
Their want outweighing ours,
Of yearning for the sky
Devoid of heat, or lack of air,
How truly foolish we are,
Searching for answers.
Playful clouds, above, below,
What a sight, luring in,
Further down, to the shade
In a garnished shape we can\'t see past,
To define our question,
And feel it through.
I\'ll wait a while,
For the tiring of soldiers
And their home to quiet,
Whatever must, will I do,
To sit here, staring at them,
And they haven\'t moved.