The Significance of Water

As It Falls

Drip

Drip

Drip

Insignificant drops of water fell from an irrelevant pipe, which was a part of an generic ceiling. On some random floor that just happens to be there. The foundations for this building were probably set in place decades, perhaps even centuries ago.

What is the significance of this water? Who will remember it other than the repair bills which will eventually, one day be forgotten? Who will remember the clear crisp tone that it makes as it tinks upon the ground?

Who will remember the way the light came in through the ceiling and shined through it, making it appear as if it were a diamond tear falling from the eye of some god somewhere who weeps for the passage of angels  forever lost, their joy and dispare,  their laughing and weeping,  violins and trumpets never to release their calls again. Who will remember the slight curve it makes as it falls, arcing towards the earth, pulled by an invisible force, so that it does not sit forever balanced in the cold air, still and unmoving?

Who will remember all that it has gathered? From the pipe and the air, filled with particles, all shifting the droop in some way. Who will know all that sits within this teardrop from time, whose mysteries and depths shall never be read?

Who will remember this single drop, able to give life to millions? Who will know all it brings to those whom it touches? Their life and thirst quenched from this pure, diamond like drop. Their lives forever alter from the course it takes.

Who will remember any of these things?

Who shall remember the insignificant drop of water that fell from an irrelevant pipe, part of a generic ceiling onto whatever random floor is beneath it.

What is the point of this drop?

It's entire point, it's entire purpose is to be exactly what it is. Water. Exactly what all of those that felt it needed.