Honed By Stones.
I walk upon this winter's beach,
the sea runs hard, the wind blows keen,
and I see before me 'mongst the stones,
cast by the receding waves,
a tiny fragment, emerald green.
Could this be precious as a gem?
I pick it up and feel it, rough,
and wonder if it might be glass
from a broken bottle of bygone years,
bished and bashed by a raging sea,
often violent in its time,
then thrown about and honed by stones
'til as a heart it now appears.
The transformation of this thing,
be it gem or be it glass,
makes me think of life itself,
how we too are bashed and bished,
sometimes through our own device,
our character itself is honed,
just like the object found 'mongst stones,
as we strive to gain all that we wish.
Into my purse this treasure slips
and I think upon our circumstance.
How we too must relentless be,
and forceful as the raging sea,
that we shall overcome our trials
and, in the process, strong become,
more beautiful, triumphant too,
and better persons onward go.
And even if this gem is glass,
it matters not, for in my mind
its beauty's in the words above,
dedicated to the One I Love
who strives, like me and many more,
to gain the thing we treasure most,
a life of Love more than before.
© Copyright:- Kenneth G Woolcock - 26 January 2009
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