I watch the raindrops on the window
Bursting into action when they hit the transparent surface
Starting to curl their way down the pane
Choosing the life they will lead
Most follow the others
Chasing their peers on the path that they paved
Following the rest
Using the ideas thought of before them
But occansionally
One will break the sequence
And pick a different route
Moving slower, the process more difficult
Sometimes they fall off when the wind comes
Dropping to the ground in a silent explosion
But those who do make it to the edge of the window
Start a new revolution
And others follow in their place
The first winding journey made easier with each traveler
And sometimes I wonder
If all of us could be those brave little raindrops,
How many paths would there be on the glass of the world?
