A Collision of Kinds

A raindrop dives into the pond,
Merging there ‘neath leafy fronds.
The only trace he leaves behind
Is perfect circles so designed
To spread his impact ever wider,
Fruit of this one moist collider.
Losing self amidst his brothers,
A kind of freedom he discovers.
Ceasing focus on himself,
Contributes to the commonwealth.
Dying, then, he’s most alive,
It’s only then that he can thrive.

Stephen Tomkins
16 January 2016
Singapore

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