I Choose the Rock

Pebbles, They surely are pretty Yet they’re small and fuzzy Would their babbling be translated We’d hear them yelling “I aaaam, I diiiid, I aaaam, I diiiid”. Whilst among the smallest ones “I haaaave, I booought” Whereas rubbing one another, Unable to reckon their origin, Desperately trying to look bigger Than they are or will ever be I choose to follow the way of the rock Quiet, passive and serene Moving so slowly that only eras could tell Looking the same while in constant change Though seeming fruitless, pervading around Providing the home, the shelter, the nest Loathed by the little which crosses its path, Amused by all the fuss around. Would our ears be able to hear them These would be the lessons we’d take “Be constant, be selfless, be whole”.