A rocky road
As the autumn nights arrive, I’m ceaselessly dyed in unfamiliar colours of a past encounter.
A couple autumns ago, Wandering the shoreline, I tripped. On nothing, it seemed. No wound, no bruise, yet I broke open,And wept like the tide pulled from some hidden grief. A stone. I picked it up, curious about this quiet thing That caused me such unbearable ache.Cool as the sea’s breath, My tears swaddled him. He wounded me, which wounded him. I cried, therefore he shed tears. I was, therefore he was too. Our pain was intertwined, and so was our existence. I had never seen a stone so cold, Yet so alive, Unyielding, and still so breakable. He was the shape of my heart, Imperfect, but pulsing, undeniably alive. The heart that echoed within me And outside me, when I dared to look. He wrapped around my palm, Not crossing, but dissolving the line I drew, That silent border no one ever passed. He crossed it as if it wasn’t there at all. To others, he was but a stone. To me, he was the spinning rock we stand on. They wear stones around their necks and fingers, Call them treasures. Why wasn’t he the love binding people as a ring? Why wasn’t he something more, a honk of the horn of those who adore? I don’t regret the tears I gave him. Even though they turned fate into something disposable. I don’t blame love. I blame the world for wasting what it doesn’t understand. That night, the sea whispered, Clear. Innocent. Vast. I will never again walk blind To the stones that seem meaningless, Yet carry a thousand truths. -Ajša
Posted Sep 6, 2025, 4:55 PM UTC