I don't really know

Chapter Four.

Walking to class today, I saw a puddle on the floor. A patch of water, no larger than a textbook. And I started to cry. I don’t understand it. It just happened, I guess I just couldn’t hold it back any longer. That water, the giver of life, precious in so many parts of the world, so sort after that people kill for it, just lying there. I stared at it, just stood there and stared at it, it stood deadly still, defying the world with it’s tranquility.  In the modern world, everything moves, everything goes somewhere and if you don’t, you are left behind. And here is a puddle, something that people just ignore, defying the system. The water in it could be from anywhere, from the atlantic, for the pacific, from Canada or New Zealand, and it’s so precious, because it gives us life. Without it we are nothing, without it just ashes and dust. Yet for some reason, because it’s on the floor it means nothing to us. It’s contaminated, lost to the world. Someone stepped in the puddle. I only just realized but it must have happened a while ago as the spot has dried up, leaving no trace of it’s former glory. The water has moved on, and I guess that proves my point. Nothing is stable, nothing is secure. Even water, in all its beauty, is still just oxygen and hydrogen and it too must move on.
So I moved on, to my next class. Moving on in life.