Small Droplets, Big Pond

We’re in a state of constant clapotis—

reaching chaotic spikes that look like progress, 

but never really moving at all. 

 

Simulated punctuated equilibrium. 

A circular waterfall of sorts, 

cascading down the boomerang of time, 

zigzagging in eternal perpetuity. 

 

How do we escape the flood?

 

In our efforts to become whole, we forsake the small things that give life purpose.

The crackle of a warm fire.

A smile shared through the quickest of glances by two old friends. 

A comforting touch in a time of need. 

 

Water only reflects images when its surface is calm. 

 

Disrupt the mirage. Get out of the desert. 

There’s an ocean waiting to be discovered.

 

 

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
My community
My country
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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