Drought Awaits…

Beginning of such languid calm
Becomes a trickle of moisture,
A teardrop unexpected,
Denied by the hand of determination.

Still…

Being but human,
Even as evolution grants porous absorption,
Capacity reaches maximum.

Where does such overflow go?

Beneath the surface,

 It lurks, gathering momentum,
Rising up without restraint,
An innocent emotion of nature disrupted,
Knowing not the distant shores it might need,
The life it might cling to,
Influence,
And consume.

So it goes,
Innocence of hope,
Conditioned faith,
Unexpected fear of failure.

So human we are,
Bent on compartmentalizing,
Ill equipped to understand
The amorphous origins of weeping,
The nature of its needs,
The compassion inherent with its lessons.

Somewhere in the cosmos,
Ideas of moistened release evolved,
Presenting Man with
Tears,
Rain,
Streams,
Rivers,
Oceans.

Our world
Of cumulus billow,
Of swollen tear ducts,
Where all weeping
Knows one another,
Embracing its joy,
Its tragedy,
Its destiny,
Labor's teaching,
A drop,
A tsunami,
All as one,
The Universe's irreversible harmony.

Yet…

We continue this cosmic nescience,
Holding back discernment's moist dearth of resolve,

Like a stage void of passion.

Hovering in the wings,

Drought awaits its inharmonious curtain call.