We are like the drops of rain
so many
That fall upon the earth
without meaning,
alone and separate.
But like the tear
upon my cheek,
Like the molten tear
which a candle weeps,
Yes we know it in our hearts.
There is purpose in the journey.
For the pligrim learns
what his life has been
When that golden sand
at last is seen.
" All to us ", the Waters said,
all each among together speak,
" Little drops from highest peaks,
All to us, they come".
14/26 Wood Street
Inglewood WA 6052