Rocks

I hold a piece of bloodstone … deep and beautiful greens with speckles of blood red — like stars in a dark sky.  What have I to say to a stone so ancient?  You are so marvelous.  I honour your journey into my hands today.  When I hold you, do I touch that magical journey?  Am I a part of your story? “Of course, you are!” the stone says.  “All things are inter-be.”  Generations after generations across the earth and sky, molecules, atoms shifting, sharing, moving.  A dynamic dance in the cosmos.  The rocks hold their own for a relatively long time in this dance.  Stable, mature, confident — yet, like us, still they are impermanent.  All things transform .. and so must I.  Oh the stories if rocks could talk.  Telling their tales of smooth patches, rough patches, spots and holes — like our skins as we age — telling the stories of our lives.  This wrinkle is from smiling — this one from surprises.  This spot reminds me of joy in the summer sun.  Love your face with all its give-away tales.  What a shame when medical science erases our journeys with laser beams.  I’d rather be like the stones.

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