If, in the raging flood, I am but a drop of rain,
then how much at fault am I for all the pain.
If, in the tumultuous torrent, I am only a tiny tear,
then explain—from me what has God to fear?
If, in the sun’s blazing light I am merely a poor prism,
would not seeing through my eyes create, at least, a modest schism.
If, in the wailing wind’s squall, I am a brief solitary breath,
then what will the world—tell me, truly lose upon my death?
Yet, like a snowflake in the blinding blizzard,
I am one-of-a-kind beyond the magic of any wizard.
The path I have followed, the course I have blazed,
belongs to no other; no matter on what he has gazed.
You may think to grasp the meaning of the stars,
bur you will certainly fail, if only from reaching too far.
To know the truth of all that is, search the heart of the core.
Be unafraid that the journey seems to be to an unreachable shore.
A drop of rain, a tiny tear, a lone breath, a single flake of snow,
are all the assorted, infinite pieces that make up the whole of the show.
Each unparalleled by itself; distinctive and incomparable alone.
Remove any moment, any snippet and the whole will be dethroned.