Ode to the Raindrop

Raindrops fall, rushing and speeding,

From the glorious heaven above to the base earth below.

They look at me askance -

A question on their glittering visage -

Where do you go traveller?

Where do you hurry to?

Why do you rush so?

I tell you, raindrop - I am better than the rest -

I can stop to admire you - your beauty, your grace as you fall.

Sweet raindrop, you should look at the common crowd yonder -

So busy as to be rendered unable to see you for what you are.

You are but mere annoyance to them -

All your whistling magnificence is but an impediment to their routine work.

They toil and toil, and keep toiling to the end of their days.

So burdened by the mundaness of day that they forget you, o raindrop -

You which is at the source of all life -

Our very sustenance.

Forgive them, benevolent raindrop, for they aren’t wrong.

If you may be so moved to punish such wrongdoing,

Humanity shall perish bar a precious few.

Time, great raindrop, is our king and master, and we its slave.