Moving Still

I sit by the beach and see a lone boat,
It seems to be moving with the current.
But after an hour I see it still there.
And I wonder, I wonder if that is how
every eye persevere.
The people who seem to be
moving ahead,
Are they too held by an invisible
anchor?
An anchor of orthodoxy,
An anchor of fears,
Or an anchor put by someone
that pulls back
every time when one tries to spur.
As I go deeper, deeper into this thought
I see the boat moving
by the stroke of the paddles.

And I get all my answers,

An answer that states that everyone need that one stroke,

A stroke that pushes you forward,

As that what the science of nature says,

Without any external force,

Nothing in this world can ever move.