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A droplet in the sky is falling, hoping to land in the river. From Bottle in the River.

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I,
the droplet in the sky,
fall and pray and
wonder why . . .

oh current, why
have you left this lake?
Is a craving a craving
for the craving’s sake?

Forsaken by my lonely fate,
how could I have landed
in this pool of mud,
hoping to evaporate?

Like saying I believe,
help my unbelief.
Let me let go of the last edition.
It causes grief.

Once again,
I search for the river,
or am I searching
for the sea?

Am I hanging on
to thought or hope?
or hanging onto letting go
of the way that I cope?

Am I thinking
or is that just . . . . me?

Thinking . . .

Yet light will gaze
down again on me and
my empty mind, and
the question
I have here:

am I the reflection,
or just the mirror?