The river, rain and puddle.

The waves rushing past, the leaves falling to hide a path.

The continous flow of life, interupted and made to spin.

In the same circle as it moves forward, not knowing what's happening.

Stuck and unable to move, yet always going somewhere.

As life begins to reach it's end, it dwindles Into a puddle.

Small and nearing the end, yet part of something greater.

As time passes, it dwindles drop by drop.

Until it has been completely forgotten, completely disappeared.

And as I reach my end I wonder, will I be the lonely puddle or.

Would I be granted life to suffer again with the rain, be granted a river to be ignored in.

Whatever the answer, I do not mind.

For time is passing, as I slowly disappear.