Lost Secrets

A cold stone moves slowly,

If at all-to anyone,

Lifeless, hard, unfeeling,

An obstacle in their path

Whose existence shall soon

Slowly crumble away.

But inside this stone…life?

Who can tell? For perhaps

Here-there burns a furnace,

A toss’d ocean churning,

A broken vagabond

Tired of wandering.

His past? Who can recall?

For none have asked him.

Does a pearly world

Spin inside the oyster

Of such boulders as these?

If beaten, locked clam-

Chest were forced open

Shall we find dust only?

Dust, and a paper scrap.

Faded, wrinkled, brown,

It cracks from the ages.

An idea immortal

As towering granite

Crumbles to mere nothing,

Nothing more than mere sand.

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741