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Listen to the Rock
by John Polelle

Some can share a moment with a rock,
others not;
too busy in constant monologue,
deaf to rocks.
Some can see a blossom in the bud,
others not.

Fix your eyes upon that rock.
Hold the shape,
lock the color in memory's vise.
Blind yourself to pebbles.
Come close,
listen to the rock.

It whispers of times so long ago.
It sings of now and what will be:
once it was a mountain;
soon a bit of sand.
Tell the rock you were a babe
and now a grown man.

All changes with time
the rock will tell you that
and that which you wish to know. 
And you will tell the rock
your remembrances of what was.
But first, listen to the rock.


 

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