It’s not a linear vector between two points,
rather a drop of rain. It falls and runs and
circles the drain. Then finds itself in some
hepatitis-laden puddle. It loses itself. Evaporates.
Finds a home in the clouds. The heavy purple clouds,
Made more perfect backlit by an edging sun.
Only to be evacuated. Emptied with the masses.
If it lives a worthy life maybe it will find the sea–

life is weird. And endless. And it ends. And it begins again and again. And you die again and again and again. And you are the same drop of rain, but you’re never really the same, are you?