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.