Sides of a Stone

April 6, 2017

I guess you could say, we are two sides of the same stone.

I guess.

He and I

we are like a stone buried in a river.

 

Me.

I am the lower half, buried in the sediment.

Sometimes, I peek out a watch the water rushing by.

Watch my life rushing by.

I grip the muddy river floor so we won’t be caught by current

And carried off into the abyss.

 

Him.

He is the upper half, letting the water rush over him

He is always seeing,

Living,

Being.

The water is smoothing his edges and shaping him into the person he will become.

He protects me, for better or for worse, because

I guess we are two sides of the same stone.

I guess.

 

One day, the current will be too strong.

I will have to let go of the sediment,

And we’ll race down the river

Tumbling, rolling, tumbling, rolling

Until the cracks left by our crashing into other rocks

Get too deep

And the stone will break apart.

We will break apart.

 

Me.

I will no longer be the lower half of the stone.

 

Him.

He will no longer be the upper half.

 

Us.

We will always be one stone.

But, I guess we’re two sides of the same stone.

Two halves, broken apart by the constant current.

But always two sides of the same stone.

 

I know.

 

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