The current is too strong for you. You try as hard as you can, but in the end it isn't enough and you just float. Not going up. Not going down. Just drifting.
You're scared to stop straining for the river's start because you know if you do, you'll be pushed to the Atlantic. Pacific. Or maybe you're on the Styx and you won't go anywhere. You'll just disappear.
But you're scared to keep trying, because strength can't last long without a helping hand. Is it better to try until your strength is wasted on a useless pursuit, or to simply sooner accept your predetermined fate and fade into the oblivion?
But there's a saying. A very simple saying that goes "you'll never know until you try."
Yeah, so I have the worst memory in the world, and maybe that's the only saying I can think of. But it works.
Because once you continue on, you find another person in a boat just like yours. Drifting, trying to make it upriver, but with only one oar.
And you realize that you're the same. That both of you can lend a hand.
So you take your oar and your helping hand. You take your strength, your knowledge, your determination, and everything else that kept your boat afloat, and jump to the other. You don't look back. And that boat that you left behind, with the puddle in the bottom that refused go away and the poorly painted sides with a name long gone, is taken by the river. And yet you still don't turn your head, because you know that this new boat is better, even with its dingy sides and moldy wood, because in this boat now there are two oars. And four hands to guide them.
This boat is stronger than it seems (hopefully).
Because I know my friends are precious and I appreciate them every moment of this life and if they ever leave me I'll just turn to tears and the current will wash me away and I won't even be drifting anymore, I'll just be gone.
| ADRIFT! A little boat adrift! | |
| And night is coming down! | |
| Will no one guide a little boat | |
| Unto the nearest town? | |
| So sailors say, on yesterday, | 5 |
| Just as the dusk was brown, | |
| One little boat gave up its strife, | |
| And gurgled down and down. | |
| But angels say, on yesterday, | |
| Just as the dawn was red, | 10 |
| One little boat o’erspent with gales | |
| Retrimmed its masts, redecked its sails | |
| Exultant, onward sped! |