White Rock in the Sky

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Image Stones

Impressionistic Stones by K. Shawn Edgar

White Rock in the Sky


 

When the wide water’s too cold,

I lay myself flat out on the rocks.

My back is warmed by their heat.

My exposed side is tingled by breezes.

Blue now blankets my vision.

I see only the unequaled heights.

At noonday a white rock floats

into my tranquil field of cyan.

A cloud shouldn’t feel so heavy; it…

shouldn’t harden my personal matters.

 

Above my head, full of suspended belief,

the laws of Greatness have changed.

White boulders float, or are suspended

like seeing a boat from the sea floor.

Am I going to die? Smashed between…

small rounded rocks and a lofty boulder?

Impossible; it floats. I could no more be

flattened by a cloud than by a woman’s

whisper.

 

When the wide water’s too cold,

I lay myself flat out on the hard rocks.

The sky’s blue, with deep troubles born.

She whispers: “You’re but a dream

I had three seconds before waking.”

A cloud shouldn’t feel so heavy; it

shouldn’t press the life from my body.

 

Gravity is more than a scientifically

probable state of mass attraction.

It’s the consequence of actions, proved.

She whispers again: “You ushered me in,

an old soul for a new, and you will die

because I will leave your field of view

forever on, until you believe it’s true.”

Nothingness now blankets my vision;

I see only the unequaled depths.

A cloud shouldn’t feel so heavy.


K. Shawn Edgar • 2014

 

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