I Held a Stone
I held a stone, and I placed upon it all the burdens I could not carry.
The weight of unsaid farewells, of people lost,
and loads removed from the paths I cleared.
Stone upon stone,
stone upon stone,
piled to mark the place where Heaven and Earth journeyed —
a magnificent vision.
Even if, deceived by my fears,
I believed myself to be the soul-seer of the stairway.
And from these stones,
I’ve built foundations and walls secure,
erecting homes, and catacombs, and altars.
And I am the priest,
the architect,
and the mason all.
But why the labor of building only to witness stone by stone pulled down from glory?
Both the home and ornate tomb alike are laid to waste,
only to be built again.
Again.
I held a stone.
Then…
I dropped it into a flowing stream.
Was this one pulled down from home or tomb?
It does not matter.
For even this stone will one day erode away.
Away.
