Tiny Pebbles

Tiny pebbles are strewn around the gravel road, like forgotten thoughts uncounted half-chewed, littered along the wayside, ah! disorder! The most constant of nature’s laws! Still, each of them dreams in time of being pressed into a statue to the gods, to be a Stone of the Highest Order but each must count himself lucky every time a passing child stoops to feel the gray roughness in his hands to them, to whom anonymity seems guaranteed, remembrance is enough.