In the beginning I was sharp:
Hewn and fractured and split.
And there I lay in the elements for an
Eternity, in flicker of night and day.
Little by little I slid, slipped
And was washed to the river
Where I clattered: my edges
Blunted, broken and dulled.
After eons I found the reassuring sea,
Its salt brine sanctuary,
And was drawn in to wave grind
And the constant draw and push
Of each surge and counter rush:
The rolling swish of a billion
Touching stones caressed in fluid
Musicality and thrown high upon the
Tide line, to lie as almost perfect
Spheres; shaped, refined, defined
And rounded to the soothing curves
Of a microcosmic world reflected.
© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015.