Sitting there still and clear

the reflection is calm and smooth.

Everything underneath the water is completely visible,

revealing everything.

Each drop of water remains motionless, undisturbed and tranquil.

But then the storm comes in and the wind comes first, before the rain.

As the wind blows across the water,

the surface is no longer still.

The rain begins to pour,

the drops of water send ripples out across the surface.

The bottom is now hidden,

Nothing can be seen.

The surface of the water is rough and angry; it hides everything that it holds,

concealing it from all outsiders.

Each drop of water moves with rage and rushes quickly around the others.

Eventually the storm must die,

and it is replaced with all that it lacked.

The brilliant sun breaks through the clouds and shines its dazzling rays upon the

water.

The rays caress the water

and the surface begins to gleam.

It is not a sheet of smooth glass,

but it is bubbling with joy.

Each drop of water dances with the rest, moving with grace and with energy.

And still again the water calms down and become smooth once more.

Each drop of water ceases all motion and becomes peaceful once again.

There are million of drops of water in this one pond,

Millions within one.

Without them the pond would not be a pond.

It would not be a lake,

It would not be a puddle,

It would be nothing.