A Drop

A drop, crystal and clear hung from the tip of a glistening leaf. Like a man at the edge of a cliff, the drop would continuously rock back and forth, yet it would not fall, something was drawing it back. The leaf was its home, its sanctuary and once it left there would be no return. Once it lost its grip upon the bright green stem the drop would fall, thundering towards the dark damp earth below. This was not its place, it had come from the sky. The looming grey clouds above had been its origin, its home and the drop remembered it as though it was yesterday.  But it was yesterday, literally 24 hours ago the drop had been up, within the gigantinc dark gods above, and without warning it had been plucked and banished, to the hell which is the earth. Now it still hangs, perilously close to falling, surrounded by stems of large green grass encasing it, there was no escape. The ground was beckoning to the drop, like a flame to an unwilling moth. Oh how it tried to resist, this was the devil in its most minute form, desire. The drop felt this. Desire to be free from this world, desire to be rid of the looming prospect of falling, desire to rid the stress of holding on. Finally, the drop could feel its strength fading every second, slipping closer to the edge of the leaf. It was as though life renched out the drops imaginary fingertips clutching on, and the drop fell. It's stroke of brilliance and beauty would never be forgotten, it had finally given up. It was gone, and finally free.