May 3, 2013


United States
39° 12' 4.9824" N, 76° 50' 15" W

In the midst of chaos

stands a lone rock.

This rock doesn't waver

nor does it speak.

It just sits there,

before the fray and


Everything around the 

rock, leans forward

to touch it's sunbathed 


These things admire the

rock in its stoic


Everything is transfixed

by the rock.

Except one other rock.

This other rock is craggly,

and broken, unlike the


that was smoothed by

years of the river 

training it's surface

to perfection.

This one other rock is

imperfect in every way

and does nothing to hide it.

The perfect rock and 

everything else pays no 

attention to the other rock.

All these things cherish the

perfect rock so

much they want to

lift it up and bear it as

a gift to the heavens.

As they gather together

and lift the perfect rock

they see that the

rock was hollow


infested with sick creatures

of the night.

Everything shuttered and 

dropped the perfect


cracking and destroying

the smooth outer surface.

The creatures of the night

fled from the crags of

the once perfect rock.

The creatures searched

for another rock to


when they found

the one imperfect rock.

They twitched with delight

and crawled into the 

craggly depths of the

imperfect rock

but found

that this rock was indeed

very different from the

perfect rock.

Instead, the imperfect rock

fought back against the

creatures of the night.

This poem is about: 
Our world


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