As Broken As a Petal In Your Hand

I didn't think anyone would ever argue that I am broken Life has thrown up one too many challenges to me I survived but I suppose i am more like magma from Volcano I am like molten rock that's been aerated by fire I am to be fertile soil eventually I still have fire in my soul but my substance has been burnt out I lack beauty I am ash I'm told Ash makes great fertilizer Perhaps I can fertilize your soil with words Tired and accelerated ... exhilarated it rises and I see it cresting through my window. And as it does I feel as if I am brand new Granite and limestone and I am gold I am frankincense and I am Mir Lines on the mountains I am a million years old I am 600 million years old I am worn but I'm like that white rock you find on the beach You can't help but respect the beauty of the lines that show up in a rock jostled and beaten and tormented by the sea I am purely round and all of my edges are gone I am no fairy tale nor whimsical dream this small white rock "knows" pumice that from Volcano was born only to become ash and then to become soil and then become the fodder forth from new life Small rock Big Story