Rocks on Rocks
A poem about permanence and loss
Now I know why they piled rocks on rocks
to remember a memory that could be lost
in the way that it was truly felt
to record the labor, to crystallize the cost
Some tomes may say ancient tones they played
gathered meekly to reverberate the waves
songs leave little of the toil and pain
rocks tell stories, how they prayed
Now I know the difference, between me and us
whispered nothings blow away like dust
bones and tissue, monuments don’t last
minds are witnesses, that lie and hush
What good is lying among the lost?
life is for the living and investing well
we cheapen our gardens planted there
the plants slow-growing under nighttime spells
Virtue and honor, great mantles upheld
don’t water the ground or feed the dead
nothing of me will virtue record
rocks are eternal, rocks grow unfed
Ancients never conceived of time
at least not as an unbroken line
they knew my secrets, better than hordes
rest we are seeking, in rocks, not pines
It was never my fate to imbue
the world with music it was blind to hear
with directions ignored, the faithless steered
the thoughtless wonder, why rocks we revere
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