Drop
The surface breaks
only because something
cared enough
to land.
A single drop. Infinite consequence.
We believe in the quiet arithmetic of small actions. A kind word, a careful decision, a patient moment of attention — each is a drop that falls into the still pond of the world and sets circles moving outward, further than we can see. The wave does not announce itself. It simply arrives, then arrives again, and the surface is never the same.
Drop
The surface breaks
only because something
cared enough
to land.
Flow
One circle becomes
two, becomes many,
becomes a language
of arrivals.
Reach
The far shore feels
what the near shore
began. Distance
is only time.
tap a stone to turn it over
Before the drop there is only surface — a mirror pretending to be a floor. The smallest disturbance reveals the depth that was always underneath.
What begins as a pulse, barely measurable, widens with every second. The first circle is never the last. The effect is almost always larger than the cause.
The ripple that reaches the far edge carries the memory of the drop. Nothing is peripheral. Everything was, at some moment, the exact middle of a new beginning.
Every drop ripples.
RRIPPL · MMXXVI