Dialogue with oneself

Dialogue with myself

A stream flowing relentlessly towards another bigger stream knew that it would not be known distinctly once it meets its end. It will be assimilated, dissolved and be quiet. But then it still flowed as if there was no end. It detoured, it collided with rocks, rounding their edges, eroding their ego.

The haughty rocks didn’t mind it. But some did, they let the stream push them towards the bank. Standing on the side, they witnessed time passing by but didn’t have the courage to become sand.

Why do we fear becoming sand?
Is sand too small?
Is rock too big?

Why do yearnings of sand, the stream and the still rock not merge ?

Why do we fall on the way side just to be able to stay still?
what is the chance of stream stopping suddenly?

Let me try