Purpose

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 Little droplets on my window,

Fallen from heights above,

Clinging on with all they have,

Not sure what awaits them below.

 

They could become a part of something greater,

Upon their tumble from the sky,

Like a puddle or a river,

Or a drink that satisfies.

 

They could fall and find themselves alone,

Slowing soaking into the earth,

Feeling insignificant,

Of no value, of no worth.

 

So they firm their grasp,

afraid to find their destiny,

they’d rather do nothing as

there’s comfort in complacency.

 

But His thoughts are not mine,

Nor are His ways,

So fear not little raindrop,

Fall expectantly to your place.

 

For nothing will return,

To the place from whence it came,

without fulfilling it’s purpose,

Even the smallest drop of rain.

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