We are clouds.
Thick and grey,
brimming with rain,
brimming with potential.
We are aware, that a single droplet we contain
can send ripples of revitalization in a placid pond.
We have the energy to share.
We’ve done it before.
We know this.
Yet, we hover in the skies above.
We look eagerly for a pond to rain into.
But there’s none in sight.
Meanwhile, time elapses.
The wind, and life, not caring for our indecision drift us aimlessly.
We fail to realize that we have to rain down first to create the pond.
But, for once, we decide to act.
The immutable law of the universe,
gravity, aids us on our journey.
We fear the contact of the Earth,
the impact on the crust, on the rocks,
But we have no choice.
And we rain down without inhibition.
Drops turn into rivulets, and lakes,
ponds, and streams.
Before we know, we become a river,
chiselling the rocks smooth on our advance,
The very rocks we once feared.
And from being a nebula of meek, diffident droplets
We culminate confidently into the might ocean.
We rest in deep satisfaction.
Soon, the sun shines on us.
We rise up as vapor, ready for another challenge,
across the Pacific.
So, I ask you my brooding cloud,
I ask you, my tiny droplet of promise,
‘When are you going to rain down?’