The stone looks up to heaven for light

It starts as a lump of soft soil
The sun scorches it
And for years it has become this
Hard stone

It has no face
Just this blank flat and smooth
Edge
And some corners that the seasons
Shaped

It is strong now
Facing the sun looking for more light
Mustering some courage to afford
A stare
Without being destroyed

Indifference makes it
A name for itself
Hate it shuns out
Love, it still has to know
Perhaps in another season
The rain may send the message
When

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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