Skipping Stones

Skipping Stones

I traveled through the air,
leading to endless time,
drowning visions –
gliding across open waters;
dangling my ripples into the river’s flesh,
scraping my hard form
over its delicately hidden force –
of nature.

my travels were not of my own doing,
I was viciously yanked from the earth,
mud clustered to my frame,
the hand, lackadaisically
gripped in blasé fingers,
and disenchanted eyes
they stroked me in their sight,
coarsely brushing off the dirt,
(for a moment)
a gingerly touch; smoothed my grayish frame,
and I wondered if any life was left?

my song rang out before I soared through the air,
oh, yes, I bellowed out the praise –
those crusty hands could not(refused to)
my seconds were limited,
but I used them wisely,
soaking in the last bit of sunlight,
while watching the gauntly face,
that face! that chose to rip me from my home –
the home; I had spent centuries seeking,
a home that lay comfortably beneath the stars,
allowed me to cherish the sight of the moon,
and the embraces of the sun.

my home; cooled in kisses of the river,
melting me in the hugging clay –
right next to my sweetest love,
of grayish blue minerals,
and we sang,
together –
a poetic rhythm,
along with the encircling vibrations-
mysteries of the forest,
tales of the water,
stories of the creatures,
wailings of the winds,
paintings of the sky,
echoes of the mountains,
we all linked,
collecting our songs –
earthy harmony, delightfully.

BUT the face saw nothing,
my visuals became blurred,
the FACE had wickedly;
NO! apathetically,
not heard a single sound,
or felt the warmth of my density,
I was nothing more than a rock,
the sounds and artistry of nature,
had no color or heartbeat
to those gray eyes,
and as I sailed through the air,
then, as I bounced,
leaving trails of waves
into the body of my friend,
my heart said its goodbye’s to my love,
and to my home,
saddened, but relieved in a way,
because the face and the eyes,
were beginning to morph into all.

But then again,
as I fell to my demise,
I wondered,
had I become the apathetical creature?
had my spirit turned to stone?
I saw the dance of colors and sprite,
when my solid-self curled above the lively waters,
had Nature once again,
pooled with the Universe,
to bring life where all that was comfortable,
twirling into skewed ideas,
and coated a (my) home with crackling paint,
that could only be seen by another,
one who understood;
one who knew,
this was the only way –
to wake an indifferent stone?

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