Sunday, October 27, 1996

poem: The Rock

The Rock
Epiphanies fade.
Like dust blown away in the wind the
Memory cannot be recalled.
Was it real?
Though the memory is gone,
Leaving only the faintest ripples
Of a stone long since thrown, the
Effects linger.
The lake,
Though looking the same to the untrained eye,
Is forever different.
Outwardly the same,
Inside, forever changed.
Something new has been placed within:
The smallest thing,
A tiny pebble of purest love.
A stumbling block to those
Who do not comprehend,
But to me a stone of love to
Soften my heart of stone.

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