Why? It's really not that special. At least, not to me. I feel like there must be someting that triggered my attatchment to it but no matter how much I think about it I just can't figure it out. I see rocks all the time. Hell, I've probably got a few pretty cool rocks stuck in the tread of my boots right now but you won't see me collecting those, scrubbing the dirt off of them with a soft bristle toothbrush, soaking them in a solution of distilled water and non-ionized salt overnight, transfering them for thirty minutes to a diluted bleach solution, then rinsing them off before carefully drilling into them to accommodate a 3/32 inch diameter ball chain so that I can wear them as necklaces even though I usually hate jewellery, especially rock based jewellery because that makes you look like one of those hippy-dippy "spiritualists" who always smells like incense and believes in chakras and astrology and that is definately not the kind of image that I want to be projecting. That's not the kind of person I am. Well, it's not who I thought I was but the stone that's been dangling around my neck for the past few days certainly begs to differ.

In all honestly I can't even remember what overcame me when I found the rock. It was just a few days ago but the memory is already pretty hazy. Come to think of it, I don't even really remember where I found it. It seems like something I'd come across on a run but I never go running on Mondays so I don't think that's it. In the garden? No, I haven't done any digging there for awhile and I put down new topsoil last month so there wouldn't be any rocks on the surface. I suppose someone could have left it at the house but I remember it being dirty so I guess that doesn't make much sense either. Wherever it was, there was something about it that caught my eye. Regardless that really doesn't explain why I felt so compelled to save it. I've never done anything like this before. Not once have I even considered giving so much attention to a rock. Who does that?

Me, I guess.

I mean, it is a pretty cool rock. Asymmetrical but smooth and rounded, slightly translucent but dark and hazy with thin streaks of metallic orange coiled within, sort of like a glob of glass mixed with ink and metal shavings. Maybe that's what it is, some sort of defect from a glass blowing studio? Hmm... no, it's definately not man-made. Don't ask me how I know but I'm certain of it. That being said, I've never seen a rock like this one before. It feels so powerful, so primordial. It's just utterly mesmerizing, I could look at it for hours if I had nothing else to do. In fact, I think I will take some time to study it more. I should probably try to figure more out about it. I don't think I have anything going on today. But today's ... yes, today's a weekday. Did I actually forget to go to work? Well, I have a few sick days saved up, no harm using one today. Besides, I wouldn't want everyone to be looking at my stone. They'd probably think I'm some sort of nut if I show up with this around my neck out of nowhere, those aren't conversations I want to have. And what if they feel the same way about my stone? It's not worth risking someone trying to take it from me. It's just not worth it. I don't know what I'd do without my stone.

the marble floor cracks and crumbles as forget-me-nots unfurl from old openings made new again between two-pronged hooves. the french church is silent, the breath of wind through gaping, time-crafted windows being the only disturbance in ages, bending the grass in prayer as no one had in living memory. now, antlers of an unknown being interrupt spears of light given form by stagnant dust, a trail of young greenery sprouting in the creature’s wake. the unannounced beast, surrounded by relics of a day past, bows its head in knowing memory of the individuals who once found reverence here. it is aware of the existence of this place. it knows what it represents. a place of god, but not the first. this one was merely an amalgamation of the forces of existence that preceded it, deities in their own right, but not often remembered as such. regardless of knowledge, the old gods exist still, finding solace in a dead place of worship, trailed by new life. yes, they are still here. forgotten, but not forgetting.

In his eyes lies the wind

The breeze of my emotions

In his heart lies the love

The seed of my devotion

And when he speaks

With arms outstretched

Bound forward ever near

He says nothing but

That sweet “hello”

My ears stand still to hear

And when we lie, side by side,

In dewy nights that send

That passion found within the soul

And secrets without end

I will only dream of times awake

Without him by my side

And only wish for sunny days

Where time go slowly by

Yes, in his eyes lies the wind

The dream in which I live

And in his soul lies the key

Of my heart, to whom I give

(Originally written in June, 1991)

Resting at the bottom of the ocean,

In the deepest depths,

So obscure,

Nothing but darkness surrounding

Beneath it all,

Something lurks,

Ancient and powerful

No one knows,

They haven't seen what sleeps

Under the vibrant coral reefs

They don't know

The madness of it all,

The void of insanity

Swirling within that beautiful ocean

When you stare into the cerulean sea,

At the waves gently reaching

To soft, golden sand,

Tell me,

What do you see?

Do you see Him?

Child, I have seen it all,

And I can see that gorgeous lunacy

Veiled vestibule’s trumeau;

Silvered staircase stretches land

Songs of ocean waves echo

Dove’s tears lap ashen sand

Strength, bound ancient deity;

Silk threads tuft plumage gowns

Shading earthen treasuries;

White satin, gathered clouds

Guarding nest and sparrow;

Celestine, enshroud’ by eve’

Pronouncing peace to peril;

Utterance of destiny

Reflecting light of beryl

Eyes engage love’s mysteries

Piercing vanes as arrows

Hover o’er humanity

Fluttering, as gilded leaves;

Sweet chariot’s ascent

Between time and eternity;

Aloft, midst heaven’s scent

Stand a little taller they say,

And so I did.

I saw the world as a better place,

I saw the world in a different phase.

I saw the world meet the sky-

The beauty made me want to sigh.

I saw the Earth at the horizon curve round,

I saw the beauty that some never found.

They never said stand a little lower

To observe the problems closer.

They wanted supremacy by suppressing;

They expected honour by oppressing.

I saw the problems reach the sky,

The difficulties made me want to cry.

Stand a little taller they say,

The weak want to ignore the disarray.

They cultivated her for their needs only. She gave and gave. They plundered, looted, trampled, trashed, blasted, drilled, squeezed her resources relentlessly.

She tried to protest, shake, and shrug off the ravaging onslaught. They rubbished her at terra firma, rubbished her in the depths, not sparing her highest peaks.

The insensitive entitled ones continued to poison every square inch of her body to get that little bit more. Never satisfied, they used harmful poisons, fertilizers and pesticides. They bored down on her when she withheld benevolent showers. They blasted her quarries, denuded her forests, as they built up their castles of stone and wood.

She warned them. She quaked, sometimes raged, and she went frigid and hot. She dried up the world. Sometimes, she rained copious tears upon them, flooded their homes and doused their hearths. They found temporary fixes.

The mighty ones stayed cool in the freon aided bubble, happily uncaring of the CFC pollutants. Tankers supplied them water gotten from borewells. Diseases and infection spread, the poorest folk were hit hardest.

The nightingales sang no more. Sparrows disappeared, and extinct went several creatures. “Lowest of the food chain, dispensable,” dismissed the haughty.

They ignored vultures and crows circling upon carcasses and garbage, as resources became scarcer, and the place reeled with drought.

Antibiotic resistance brought into focus fraility of humans.

“Mother,” she scoffed, “they called me Mother Earth.”

Disaffected, she watched them. First they came for the meek, and no one said anything. “They act like I need them, but the fools do not know ’tis the other way around,” she mumbled.

One by one, they dropped like flies, and suddenly the world went quiet. Too quiet.

Mother switched off the lights and took a long refreshing nap she finally deserved.