Part.

The rain inspires me more than any creature would ever manage to.  To most people, the sound of the thunder is daunting, but for me, its my calm.  And the raindrops, I don't believe they are a metaphor for vulnerability but the language of fortitude. In the initial days of a drop ,when its more of vapour and less of tangible liquid, it doesn't know that one day it will have to leave its mama cloud. But time is the headmaster there (too). And then the day comes. The day when the mama cloud becomes too heavy , the day she sheds tears, the day she feels pain in comfort. But the tiny ones have a greater purpose to fulfill.

They make the task of separation look so real. Painful and shattering but yet so necessary.