I find a small rock as I sit on the shore

And it whispers to me as a rock would whisper

Cold and hard and sprinkled with wear

It tells me I must have something to bear

For what is bore is in my grasp

A pebble from the waters of life and of death

It glistens with malice and obscures with clarity

The rock is no bigger than a thumb

Yet the ripple it makes as I toss it in

Reaches the unreachable in size

And shoots past the edge of time

And when all is dark and still

My eyes glisten with malice

My mind obscured with clarity

-- Zaphron Richardson