I am but one,

already tired,

one tiny bent molecule

in a sea of salt water.

I drift with others,

ebb and flow,

too slowly moving

to really know

if we’re going forward

at all;

am I my own motion

or merely following

the crowd,

being pulled and tugged,

or worse, rocked to sleep?

Am I even awake

or is this a dream?

What would happen,

I wonder,

if I resisted the urge

to merely drift like this

because it’s easier.

I once heard

in hushed whispers

about a legendary drop

that caused a ripple

that created a wave

that pummeled the shore

that got the attention

of a grain of sand

who thought to itself,

I want to do more…