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Sunday, August 9, 2015

Impatient Stones

What a turnaround, eh?

It switches your point of view in a New York minute,

for you always pictured stones

as the epitome of patience.

Sentient, yes. That part isn't new.

But impatient? Longing for the passage of time

to grind them into more mobile sand and dust?

 

Notice that they trust, these stones,

Knowing that the grinding will take place.

It's just a question of time!

In time, the Rockies may tumble,

Gibraltar may crumble,

and the rigidity of rock becomes a shift of sand,

a blowing of dust.

All it takes it time.

 

Imagine the stones' incessant yearning

to move, depart, dance,

to join the motion of life.

 

For me, stones, you suffice.

I love you as you are.

But now, having recognized your yearning

I view you afresh and feel your impatience!

I thought you exemplified steadfastness.

But it turns out you are as unreconciled as we are

to what is.

Like us, you lean toward

the unknown and untried.

I wish you success in your quest

for atomization.

That is, for your sake I hope you get what you want.

 

But take caution from us volatile humans and

be careful what you yearn for.

Once you have achieved pulverization,

your grains of sand will never come together again.

Will you not miss your heavy self?

Will you not regret what was lost?

 

 
Copyright © 2015 Ann Tudor
 

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