The Water of Washbasin

I stood there by my washbasin,

Watching the water flow.

So carelessly, without a second thought,

Out came its each and every drop.

And they kept on coming,

and kept getting washed away,

For the knob was still active,

And for they had no choice.

But sometimes I wonder if that is life.

We are but only tiny droplets that come to light from the time we get launched from the tap until we get flushed down the drain. 

Where we go doesn't matter, neither does where we come from.

It's the time that we spend in the washbasin that counts.

You, as a drop have the responsibility to quench the dusty hand that seeks you.

Refuse, and the devil may care!

Doesn't make a difference. Not a whole lot, anyway.

The hand shall find plenty other drops that are coming its way through that endless supply of tap water. And you shall go down the drain, as a clean droplet of water, but will eventually gather the dirt from those around you.

And not all drops get the opportunity to touch someone's hands, but those that do get the job done well.

We can't complain about the opportunities we never received.

"Had I been there, I'd have done that."

Well, you weren't. The other drops did the job just as well as you might have done, or maybe even better.

You better move along and make way for the other drops to enter the washbasin.

So, you go down the drain, clean or dirty, that is up to you.

Did you fulfill your purpose while you were in the washbasin?

If not, the end is the same, but what good of a droplet were you?

There were millions before you, and there are going to be millions after you,

But at least while you're in the washbasin, do what you were damn well supposed to.