move me

I am moss on a rock, gathering as the stream swirls by. unmoved as dark waters pour over me, back into itself, swishing and gurgling, pulling, pushing, moving, and sunlight glitters, dancing in front of me. lethargically I sit on my rock. the wind tussles my hairs, but it's useless, I've been used. I don't have anymore fireworks in my pocket. so I'll be waiting.....