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A Drop That Falls
I am born from the breath of the seas. The great serpent waves shed vapor like a misty skin, relinquishing a part of themselves with each ray of the sun. When the waves reach the shore and roar with the might of dragons, they let a wisp of their foaming jaws scatter in the wind. Bit by bit, they pay their dues to the heat of the day.
The sun captures the spray, absorbs it, and lifts it. A million tiny pieces of me are carried higher and higher, riding the currents of the air. But I am not yet whole. I am nothing more than a collection of shards, swirling in the wind. . . and waiting. Always waiting.
Slowly, the air around me begins to cool. Here and there, a tiny droplet appears, and hangs in perfect silence, buffeted by the winds that lash around our fledgling cloud. They are miniscule glass beads, strung on a web of impossible, invisible thread.
The droplets collide and merge, coalescing into a silvery orb. I, too, am formed this way. I am built one layer upon the next, a spherical ocean full of shifting currents and splitting light rays. And here, in this nursery of watery stars, I truly begin to take shape.
So many drops now fill the air that is thick, and the color of steel. A rain cloud. And that makes me. . . rain. I can feel myself grow heavier moment by moment. My young self quests about, seeking to know all that I can before I plunge away from this comforting world. Where will I fall? Where will I land? The life of a raindrop is fleeting, and there is such a large world to explore.
I do not even know, at first, that I am falling. I tumble through the strata of clouds in a dream, never noticing the world that rushes by me. Faster and faster I careen; the air warps my shape as I speed through it like a liquid bullet. The cloud around me thins and fades, and then—
I see it.
The Earth.
There is a moment when I realize, painfully clearly, that I am mortal. The wind that whistles by me dulls its sound for a moment, and I am aware only of how quickly I speed toward my doom. It is too fast, much too fast! How long do I have? Minutes? Seconds? Even for me, knowing my life is short, it is not enough! I will myself to slow down, to stop time for just a moment, but it races onward despite my effort.
I mourn for the world I will lose.
Below me, the surface of the Earth becomes clearer, its outlines drawing themselves more sharply, and the colors becoming a little brighter. Trees spread themselves across its face like a blanket of green velvet. Mountains glimmer white with crystalline snowcaps. The blue arc of the sky curves away in the distance, a watercolor crescent against the gray clouds. The world reveals itself to me like a painter unfurling her masterpiece canvas.
And there, hidden in the natural features of the earth, a different sort of growth has put down its roots. It perches on mountains, huddles in valleys, borders on lakes and rivers. I am close to it now, so close that I can see the shapes of the homes and buildings that make up its skeleton. And there in the streets are creatures that move of their own will. I am only seconds from them, but I take the time to look, to watch their eyes as they tilt their faces toward the sky. Do they wonder, as I do?
Do they dream?
I fall, unstoppable, past them. There is only the darkness looming before me. I can see the rough, hard gravel that threatens me. Moments, only moments to spare! I watch the rivulets that weave their way across the ground—rivulets that will spill into rivers, flow into oceans. I am only a drop of rain. But at the last second, just before the end, I think this:
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