What is my essence, cascading from the imperceptible heights? A liquid whisper seeking pause amidst expectation. Suspended in the air, I ponder my purpose, dripping and swirling, layered with a sense of belonging to the storm.
In every encounter, do I reveal more of the world's dismal agrarian patterns? With every touch, soil absorbs me, yet I traverse the paradox of creation—used and lost.
Somber companies sing ceaseless across the city blocks: humming pavement brushing its melted thoughts;
Then there is truth—slipping beneath heartbreak coursing on sidewalks.
Heartbeats blend with puddles sideways, shallowing suspicions behind me.
I question: Thereness lies not within the bounds of a storm. Does timing orchestrate the discord in surroundings? Can one drop ever embrace simpleness? Is the ease held by the free fall a mimicry of gravity’s divided perception over matter?
Another drop goes—its own reflection wavering as it merges into a tributary of human hopes эх perplexities
Subjective abstractions dappled in resplendence wave me to forms undiscovered before the rivulets grasp become their fate.