Wes Appel Wes Appel

Dew Drop

Dew Drop

Rolling down a rose petal.

Down the stem it goes,

Passing thorn after thorn—

Skipping over leaves like groping hands.

Touchdown!

Drip drop, Dew Drop touches down.

Amongst the fertile plains of earth

Dew Drop settles in the growing mire.

Other drops congress

Convoking and dropping

From the rosy, golden, majestic heavenly reaches

That the morning bequeathed upon them.

Worms crawl and work

Helping the Dew Drop to carry out its noble task,

Because greatness rests on the back of minutia

And life is smaller than that.

Have you looked?

Watch the drops dance and sing

Lapping in the moonlight’s love

As mama leaves and papa feeds their verdant homes

When morning comes.

Crawling lower beneath the earth

With rollie-polies and blind things slither

Grabbing and pulling unawares of the light above

And the fire below.

But the Dew Drop continues to dig.

A miner it could be—an excavator!

While all the other drops have met their timely ends,

Fortunately to return to their fated havens,

This one continues its burrow.

Past a hundred years it sees,

Then a thousand,

Then a million,

Forever descending into the subterranean heaven

Leaving comfort,

Trickling into uncertain sediment.

Trailing past things once alive in dirt which once sprouted life,

Moving to return life where life once was,

And the Dew Drop falls further into oblivion.

Missing the moonlight, missing the sunlight

It finds a new home because there is only one way to go—

Always down,

Careening forever.

You should’ve looked when you had the chance.

Dew drops are fleeting—

Fledgling little bubbles of concentration

Focused on the only goal they ever knew.

Dew Drop finds no grass below.

Dew Drop finds only mystery and sightless wonder

And it continues to plunge

Towards the core.

Dew Drop adjusts.

As it pursues, it spreads itself

Leaving pieces behind for the earth to use,

Giving back to what was given to it.

The earth uses Dew Drop to make life,

Sending love and warmth up to the roots of the rose,

The one and its brothers and sisters

That housed Dew Drop and supplied it for its journey.

Dew Drop loses drip by drop

Becoming smaller,

Becoming so much larger,

And it concentrates,

Like a drill,

Falling,

Opening.

Open up, world!

Open the cave,

May Dew Drop fall into that rushing river underneath the earth—

A river that giants once drank from.

Let him become the biggest Dew Drop,

The world has never seen one so big.

It is far too late to see how great Dew Drop truly is.

Because minutia is the building block of greatness

And we must continue to dig to find how small we are.

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