A thousand tiny raindrops
scattered the glass today,
each one representing a thought-
the things beyond the window
morphed into odd forms in the rounded embrace of
those droplets,
much like the effects of a funhouse mirror-
big became small,
long became short,
square became circle,
and each fit perfectly within its teardrop
casing, though twisted and mangled
and misshapen-
each rested within its own womb-
I examined the figures within those droplets,
as plentiful as the thoughts within an hour,
and just like thoughts, they were scattered
and varied-
and fragmented,
each projecting a different perspective,
each as meaningful as its origin-
each raindrop is a thought,
and each thought is a funhouse
we are the objects beyond
the glass,
and our thoughts and lives and observations are splintered
into a kaleidoscope of perspectives-
large and small,
long and short,
each with an individualized meaning,
when we take the time to examine them-
each serving a special purpose,
as plentiful as droplets on a pane,
plastered about the glass like a thousand
liquid pearls*


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