The Bathing Hole

Strong currents flooded me from San Francisco. I rode the wave, keen to be carried along. The water brought me to a bathing hole clean and pure, but shallow. A timid flow at first, the water hopefully tickled me and with time its timid trickle grew to a gentle current. I bathed and the water carressed me in return. Loving and healing, fresh and cleansing. It was the most lovely bath. And recently, (ever so recently) (without me even noticing) the water began to pull me along. And when I open my eyes, I see that I am moving. And before long I won't be where I am. The water is pulling me back to where I used to be. And me? I like where I am in this place that I soon won't be. And what's more? Well, the bathing hole likes me. Yet I do not fight. (I know enough not to) I do nothing but float as I let the water carry me to where I'm supposed to go.