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Two Rocks Chatting
Two rocks conversed at the head of a river.
One, smooth and shiny, oval and balanced,
exclaimed to his neighbour,
“Why are you crusty, covered in seaweed and
now firmly anchored in the bed? How could
you come to the pass where motion has fled,
now thickly rooted in mass?”
Through algae eyebrows, heavy with tire,
gravel in his reply,
“I did not listen when other rocks told me
best to roll with the stream- I listened
to land, not having to roll, I stayed here for the ease”.
“Ah”, I see, said the smoother of two,
“You failed to heed the signs,
You bought a lie, and here you lay
to late to deep to climb.
Sad for you, perhaps shake it off?
Maybe freedom is yet to be?”
“I don't have time”, replied hoary stone,
“The river rises at three.”
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