Becoming acutely aware of the gnat in my drink as I have stared at it for so long.
Knowing it was there but never dicing together its movement of escape,
saturating itself in the livelihood of security and diving in, deep within, without the repercussions of how to ever, if only, be able to leave this...
Maybe the courage we see, the trust in its one instinctual color, to head first without hesitation, is to give up all hope any of it makes sense and when in this life has it ever?
Possibly though, its tiniest thought is so overwhelming that if I sat too long without moving, I would then, too, find myself drowning in its sorrow.