The Probability of a Raindrop

I do believe you misunderstand my existence. We are not, as you see it, a matter of probability, or a series of spontaneous speckles. I reign in a direct path, guided by purpose yet impact with intent.

How arrogant of you to believe you alone are endowed with the power of free will. How foolish of you to undermine our purpose, while devoting yourself to the divine. Few of you reign, but doing such is our being. Your existence is cluttered with confusion, ours only with conclusion.

It is a law of nature that all things possess inevitability. You must die; I must descend. Your inevitability marks the end of your path, mine the beginning. Our levels of acceptance to these inevitabilities parallel in its uninterrupted influence on our decisions.

I was born in a cloud of spores like myself from Mother Atlantic. I assimilated rather quickly compared to my siblings, feeding on vapor to help me grow. We don’t talk, there’s nothing to talk about, but we form bonds in friendship and attraction. Often, it’s those born close to us that we form an attraction to. I knew selves like mine who ventured across the clouds out of attraction for one another. You say “Love,” but it is merely nature. When bonds of attraction form, we accumulate and assimilate with one another. I abided to the laws of attraction, but maintained a conviction to practice what closely parallels your “abstinence.” I fed on vapor, and practiced acceptance of my purpose.

Attraction possesses an inevitability also – repulsion. Sometimes levels of attraction are weaker on one end than on the other, and one is left with a repelling force against gravitating attraction. Sometimes those that surround us by variables outside of control push us away completely. These varying fields of polarity generate into groups, creates diversity. These groups disperse into clouds. Diversity instigates alternate and often conflicting perspectives, and as a mass of attracted selves, consensus amongst singular sects is immediate.

Where we are released from our cell denies input of our own free will; attracting and repelling forces separate us, and the wind elemental carries us across. Wars against the laws of nature rage and ravage as conflicting clouds collide. Were it to be that we existed without innate conclusion, perhaps the wind could serve as a symbol of divine guidance that whisks you away towards a destiny aimed so high that it only provides discouragement. No. I know all influences not controlled by my own free will are inconsequential. It is not nearly as important to understand what I can’t control as it is to control my conscious.