"Life is the price we pay for running away from death "
































































They were all droplets, or so it seemed, that swam around in the primordial broth, the oceans of the netherworld, until, one day, the sun of knowledge shone upon them and evaporated their essences into thin air. It felt like liberation, as they emerged from their primitive milieu and rose, probably triumphantly, towards the heavens.
 
In the queer summers of the world, water drops rose from the firmament of the oceans to dance with the winds and silently whisper their way into the nimbus omnibus.
 
They rode the stratospheric highway until their flight hit turbulent mountainous terrain and the droplets crashed down to Earth. The drops descending into their earthly incarnations - the ponds, lakes and rivers of the world's society.
 
From then on, their life was guided by Natural forces. The rocks gave them direction, gravity gave them force, until they hit the dams. At the dams, they stopped and floated and waited in the womb of the dam's reservoir until their turn came to slip through the tubes into the world of men.
 
Once into the tube, they laboured towards a new life.
 
The drops flowed through various channels - big and small, straight and twisted - some warm and some cold, but always in pitch darkness. The darkness from a knowledge that had abandoned them. They could feel an invisible force pumping them as the pipes carried them far and wide into various corners of the world.
 
Drops that had emerged from meaninglessness, seeking meaning, and now flowing into dark endless conduits for having taken the leap of faith into the dark.
 
The leap of faith carried them, round and round, up and down, sometimes gushing sometimes placidly flowing. Yet they moved on, in the hope (not faith now) of light at the end of the tunnel.
 
Then, one day, after miles of journey in the darkness of ignorance, they saw light. The pipe opened into a tap, and Someone had left the tap open. They rushed through, giggling and gurgling, towards that light...
 
The droplets emerged into the open, falling gracefully and, each one of them, sparkling and gleaming as they tasted the free air. It was, though, only a momentary flash, like the call of death, as they careened into the open drain right below the tap of life. As they made their way into the drain, yet another arduous journey lay ahead, through bent pipes, twisted channels, all dark and dang.

Until they would merge back into the primordial ocean from where they had started with the faith that they were actually drops with individual identity. They merged back into that restless ignorance where if the faith could give them enough buoyancy, they would probably set out on the entire journey all over again...
 
 
 
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