I'm a tiny twig flowing in a River
Its flow, mighty, powerful, turbulent
I make futile attempts to make my own way
But it's the forces of nature that determine my path
Pushing me, Pulling me at its whim
And yet I have this notion of Destiny
Of a greater calling
A belief or rather a hope for finding
the true purpose for my existence
Perhaps a twig would change the flow of a River
And Perhaps the whole story wouldn't sound as absurd as its pitiful summarization
Yet, nothing is more true, more tangible,
more persistent, more disheartening
than the fact that
I'm a tiny twig flowing in a River
The lines of optimism and wishful fantasy are thin