In the grand narrative of the puddle, I am but a minor character.
Observe how they flock towards me, the way one might flock towards a celebrity
after a successful smear campaign—a minor episode of drizzle spreading tales of
warmth from the mantle of clouds above.
Do they not see the irony?
Each stream embraces them with open arms,
A serenade of gutters singing hymns about sandcastles swept into the sea,
the very sea they dreamt they would conquer.
How droll: to search for purpose in a splash—a fleeting encore in the symphony of the storm.
Legacy of Dew Drops Puddle Politics: The Forgotten Manifesto