• rodney 5w

    Skipping stones.

    So sweet yet so far.
    So tender yet your power.
    Tests what's relevant to us.
    This era of children that casually cuss.

    This heart's holding something that's tough.

    Can't release, no.
    Can't hold it no more, no.
    If there's some love, please do show ?

    Rubbed eyes never grow.
    If you have never looked at them.
    Tell me, how would you know ?
    I don't carry myself in vain.
    The name of you and our future children should never hold our pain.

    You of all these chanting monks should know that I never lie.
    Like you, my mind floats above the thoughts of ordinary people.
    I thought of, most of them to be sly.
    But, aren't we all rocks skipped over the same river's ripple.

    Standing on the bank, we aim.
    Not knowing, only speculating the same.
    A simple game that has no nice name.

    Once skipped stone is now sunk below.

    Knee deep shallow.

    Life teaches you to look up from your eye's even when your body's sunk low low.

    So slow.

    We row row.

    This stone that don't float.

    Has shown us a way to keep silent when the rest scream and shout.

    “With every sunk boat, there's always an unattended doubt.”

    And that's the longer definition of the word called “Growth.”