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We Are Stones

Stone, worn down
By water
Running over it...
Smooth and polished long ago...
The droplets so many, a complex number,
Turned the edges to glass,
Each a benchmark of time,
Is weighed in my hand and
In a flash of light,
Arcing over the river's brow,
And tumbling
A prisoner again
Of water.

Meloo/Melissa A. Howells Copyright 2004
Deceptively simple poem.
It is about so much more.

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We Are Stones