I am but a pockmarked stone*


I am but a pockmarked stone
I roll along the persistent river
Which takes me to the ocean

I am now sand
I have lost my individual stone’s markings,
For better or for worse

I settle on the floor of the ocean.

I am loosened by a passing blue whale, intent upon its prey.

I am ingested by a jellyfish
Who happened to be near me
As I floated.

*Although I wrote this poem quite a while ago, I am inspired to share it, after reading a New York Times article. The article was all about an artist whose work featured the slow erosion of rock into nothing. I apologize for not noting his name. His work was magnificent!

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