#introvert struggles

Stagnation is a constant.

Tethered to a single straight line

That doesn't stray from its path,

And never, ever fluctuates.

In the corner of my eye,

There is a hummingbird moth,

An outlier amongst the bees,

Nurturing the daisies.

It bridges the gap of night and day;

After every spin of the earth,

Its moon remains the same—

A serene, fixed routine.

So then, if the moth is faithful,

Unmoving in its ways,

Why does it oscillate?

What compels it to change?

Perhaps I will never know.

I have been stagnant far too long:

A path that never seesaws,

A line that never bends.

Is there no grace found in patterns?

Repetition is all I ever sought.

But the moth lands on my hand,

Begging me to evolve.