Hidden inside
Long years ago, when first the world began,
Great seas of lava o’er the surface ran;
High mountains rose; erosion brought them low,
And fragments from above were sent below.
And on the rocks did wind and weather bite,
Consuming in unflinching appetite.
From parts worn down, new rocks were thus remade;
Volcanos bled, and sediments were laid.
And eons thence, I’ve walked across the lands,
And sometimes pick a rock up in my hands.
While some are smooth, some others pain me much;
Some solid, and some crumble at my touch.
But of the many pebbles I have met
The vast majority I shall forget.
A few I’ll stop to hold, and fewer still
Will leave a good impression on my will.
And yet, it’s not impossible to find
A rock that’s fashioned in a special kind;
And I must ever be alert to see
If there might be a special rock for me.
Such rocks bear hidden secrets. Dull and round
They might be barely glimpsed upon the ground;
Yet inner treasures sparkle, if one might
Reveal those crystals to enquiring light.
It’s chance, but if I close attention pay,
These special rocks perhaps may come my way.
These few – so very few – that nature sends
May, if I’m very lucky, be my friends.
And, Ah! When once those sparkles they reveal
My loneliness and sadness they will heal;
I’ll revel in their crystal beauty bright,
And in their coruscation take delight!