An Eye and a Rock sat thinking on a park bench,
in the dew soaked morning of spring.
None had mouths so no words could be said.
And of course the Eye, being able to see,
raised himself up on a pedestal.
Rock couldn’t move,
Nor argue for that matter.
Eye wanted to leave the rock behind without so much as a blink.
Eye just didn’t understand that come sixty years, it would perish.
Tossed into the white abyss of blindness.
Ever arrogant Eye
didn’t think of the places Rock had been - not seen,
lost in the pyramids, lost in David’s sling
Amidst all the terrible things
Eye had seen.
Rock was still a rugged virgin;
An innocent simply comfortable with existence.
And thought not of the morality of Goliath’s shattered skull.
And thought not of the broken limestone block.
And thought not of all the terrible things.
Although he would certainly miss Eye.
As the steam rose from the two objects lying on the park bench.
The tension in rock’s stillness rolled Eye back to its owner.
Rock stayed put.