Untitled.

A disturbance.
Like a pebble thrown into a still pond,
It ripples out in all directions in my mind.
Yet I know not the pebble.
What caused this unfamiliarity?
It may have started simply, like a single spoken word.
Perhaps a name, possibly mine?
It is a traveler, like a leaf in the wind.
Does it deserve to be caught,
Or shall I let it pass as planned?
It knows not its effects on me,
For it is fixated on another.
For the betterment of its happiness,
Could intervention truly induce a greater good?
Or could an attempt leave me in further ruin,
As well as hurt my possible inclination to a better life.
To what extent shall my attempt possibly reach?
As swiftly as it came, it promises to leave.
Am I to be a stone, and simply watch my world move away from me?
If I am, let me be cast into the pond in which my pebble lies…