A Water Cycle

A new bead of water, clear and wanting, rolls down to the edge of my water bottle. On the precipice, it holds; the bead is only one small drip of water.

The wind, from the fan, makes it: grow, shake, swivel, dance. But, the drop still holds on. It doesn’t want to fall. It clings for all of it’s transparent hydrogen and oxygen molecules. A simple life.

On the bottle, in the closing space, another bead rolls down. Does it join, or not? Alone, the liquid atoms collect inside the hanging water bead – holding on: heavier, lower and thick. The wind jiggles the weight inside of the drop, rapidly.

Does it not want to fall? Can it hold on, or be pushed to fall?

Hot air surrounds my bottle and makes more baby water beads, which begin to draw near. The older water drop waits. Up and down it struggles. How much more? Pain: a lasting thought…

The water drop drops to oblivion.

Death

Heaven

Life

Another bead of water rolls down…

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