Life as a rock is a long and patient one.
Should a rock write a memoir ~ detailing the ages beginning with the Sands of Time, becoming in the river of Life no more the size of a dime. Dreams becoming a great mountain little men would climb. Not knowing rhyme, reason, lullabyes or nursery rhyme.
Season upon season, no growing up nor growing old - just incremental change. Microscopic elements along with fire, wind and rain helping rearrange. Everything beholds beauty and nothing's ever strange.
Ages pass without notice for rocks cannot tell time. Everything just "is" and all is truly sublime. Not being picked to skip the air is the only real rock crime.
Today the rock lay at the shore away from the current and the wake. A princess of the river tired of her visit to the lake ventured home to Lotus- her true namesake. To hunt for Mother Nature's treasures to borrow not to take; when she came upon the true roundrock as perfect God could make.
Observing the fine rock cradled in her hand ~ She declared the rock the most perfect specimen in all of Coloma Land.
Being truly perfect was too much and for something the rock had not planned. Good thing the rock had no ego and was humble and not acting grand.
This rocks lifetime is unknown and may never truly end. But isn't "IT" amazing that in a Princess a rock finally found a friend. Just hanging out and eroding at the meandering river's bend.