Still Waters

This rock is lucky as it rests cuddled deep within rich soil.

No enemies to threaten its comfort.

No comfort to contemplate.

Rest and being, centuries of quiet rest and being.

To be a rock, stable at the core,

always a rock never anything more.

Should a hapless farmer unearth the resting rock,

Should new light first meet its cold hard face

Unfazed the lucky rock moves to higher ground

To rest some more.

To never change

For better or worse

To know no sorrow

Pain or pity

To never need.

Will immortal bones

Know rock-like rest

Rockish peace

When love is more than salt

Of the earth?

Sitting beside still waters

I envy this rock, my hearty chair

For I must walk away

Into a storm.