Little Drop

Long ago, Brother Sky, high and mighty became torn asunder,

A crack inside, his body split, and opened, to all of us under.

And from upon the clouded high, fallen from great Sky’s dawn

Came a Little Drop, a little god, the smallest of the Pantheon.

For you see, among them was Brother Sky, and his Father Sun and Mother Moon,

And his sister still, known as Mother of the Ground, not to mention her children too;

Daughter of the Wind, and her Brother in Flame,

Each of them, Gods so great, endless, in their fame.

But Beyond them yet, lay the First, The Old Man of the Stars and their Nana of the Night.

The pair of them, a dyad of primordial might.

The little god gazed upon his family, and upon his brother’s almighty face,

He wished to be the same, you see, so he asked how he too could be great,

Brother Sky looked down upon this Little God as he does us all, and told him: “You stare upon me in envy, but do not know your place; you are a Little Drop and that is to be your fate.”

And so too many others agreed, claiming that a Little Drop can never be more than a little god.

But Little Drop was a determined little drop and would prove feats so great to leave the world awed.

So every day, the little god carried along a little drop, another drop, another drop.

To show them he too could be vast and mighty

And Daughter of the Wind, a goddess so flighty 

Was the first to take notice the fruit of this little god’s crop.

She watched as he would come together, split apart; rest on morning dew, and brave Winter’s Breath.

He was perhaps the most persistent of all the other gods; always split, ever changing form, but never facing death.

So Daughter in the Wind, flew fast and far and told of the little god’s rising storm,

But in doing so, upon her zephyr, she carried with along his swarm.

Upon Her back the Little Drop was able reach far and wide, across all corners of the world,

He expanded and grew, split and spread, his divine power unchained

His wroth flooded the land and purged it all in a whelming of oceanic whirl.

So Mother of the Ground saw the little god and knew he must be contained.

She twisted and spun, creaked and roared, her ancient body as old as space,

She moved mountains and made her shores,

Digging valleys and canyons, creating riverbeds in scores,

All in the hopes that it would keep this Little Drop in place.

To Mother’s bindings, the Little Drop could not would not dare not conform,

Why should he be bound to one place, or to one form?

 Soon a mere drop became a storm, became a monsoon, became a typhoon and overtook the land.

His tantrums, a tempest of which no god could command.

This brought them together to have a discussion, long awaited.

On how best to handle this calamity their dismissal created

Brother in Flame smiled and spoke, for he knew the Little God would not stop,

"Infernos start from the tiniest of sparks, and so too does a hurricane begin with a Little Drop"

Mother moon, said: “To calm the fury of His tides, I will rock him with the lullabies I bring. Each day and every night, a rhythm of ebb and flow I will sing.”

Father Sun, proud and strong claimed “I will shine as bright as can be; my light will soak up all of him I see, for as far as he can reach, he will never outreach me!”

And so the gods tried, but the Little Drop had become a rather large problem.

Father Sun shined, but Little Drop did not shy away, he reflected, shining brightly right back.

Mother moon sang, a melody to keep the ocean calm, but her Lullaby would not stop the weather.

Daughter of the Wind sailed and soared, but wherever she went, He was there with her.

And Brother in Flame, refrained, knowing the folly of his attack.

Finally Little Drop howled as he gazed upward: “There is only one on this world who has earned my rivalry! Brother Sky now do you fear me?”

However, stalwart and stubborn was Brother Sky, for he was beyond the little god’s reach.

And no matter how the Little Drop grew, the domain of Sky he still could not breach.

But when the world stirred, and the lands shifted, it was work of neither sky nor water,

But a matron of the night, and their certain starry eyed grandfather.

For the first time, they looked upon their Little Drop and he saw an infinity in their eyes.

“Our little drop, not so little anymore; you are what you are supposed to be, and we are wise.”

“For you are the Sea, and you are the waves. You are the storm, and you are the frost. You are the blood, and you are the sweat. You are the salvation, and you are the demise and you are the one from which life will rise.”

Nana of the Night and The Old Man in the Stars looked then upon their bickering children. “You are a family, all of you. Do not become unfurled. Together you are a World, and that is something alone you will never be greater than.”

The other gods faced the Little Drop. An apology, and confession, admission of their blame.

For they were fools once to dismiss the little god, and wished not to repeat their shame.

Brother Sky too, listened to his elders, to the Stars and to the Night…their messages could accept.

And so, for his behavior and dismissal past, once more, the Sky was torn, and he wept.

Reconciled now, apologies made, back to his Brother Sky, the Little Drop came,

And siblings now truly they could be, for what is thunder, without rain?