A stream of water knocking each & every rock, stomping, smashing and getting slaughtered into fragments. How every small attempt the waves goes crashing, how enraged one could be?
Tiresome efforts to weed out everything in the way. I think about the force, which breaks down, when it smashes in. Those fragments trickle down the cracks of the rock, percolating down into deeper crevices make it's way across those close spaces, trickling down further to touch those rugged edges and sit like drops of pearls. Unknown touches; caressing down into your labyrinths. Last breath of the rebel ends with occupying the soft spots. Weakness of any rock; who can withstand storms, rains. But these, little fragile water droplets could be devious too.
Some of us are rocks and some of us are fragile droplets.
We are both breaking down with every single splash. Breaking souls, withering homes apart. Just crippled enough to keep staying stuck unless being uprooted by force. We are sometimes a rock for someone or sometimes we the wrath of raging stream. We snorkel into our own sorrows or perspectives . Hard to say, when was the last time , it felt like home or was it an illusion of it. We keep going through it. You know one day, you will just die and there will be no feelings. You won't know anything ever existed. Not even your own sense of being.
You can believe to be something or someone, who can switch the perspective.