A Pebbles Path
A Pebbles Path
The past is passed
the pebble and its ripples
long stilled.
That pebble
may be dropped again
but not by me.
Those ripples
having reached the shore
will never sail again.
Spawned in the drop
of a pebble,
nurtured by the rocking
of its ripples,
formed by the hands
of unseen sculptors.
Tempered by the heat
of future’s forge
molded by the anvil’s
solid core,
borne upon the winds
of soft kissed waters,
blooming where fate
and chance were wed.
Now, in the presence
of this moment
I hear the soft splash
of pebbled births
ripples in search of longings
adrift on a sea
of dreams.
7/25/2016
submitted to - I got zero, nothing Nada - 2 - Poetry Contest
N/A - Change My Past – Poetry Contest - judged 7/29/16
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