rock

A small rock stuck on a sea beach, oblivious and worn. Easily forgotten, unbothered, bored.

Unmoving, resilient and stoic, purposeless to look at like a million other strewn stone.

Waves come and go, pulling with violent force unknown, Dragging with them sea shells and life such, small specks of wet dust, seaweed and shore garbage, blackened bits of yesterday's sewage.

They rip, stretch, pluck and extract. 

leaving naught, but white tiara of salt on silent rock with smallest crack

A briny diligence to dislocate

every whip, a watery lash of coruscating initiate to gather the pebble in its bosom and yet it won't budge,

distant waves in thunderous rumble in response to lunar hug. 

Dynamic heaves with intention to cull, to wrench that stone in its liquid hull

they say the seas will cease to be, evaporate into salty lore

would anyone rue the demise of what once was water is now turned ice

Lands may break, merge and dissolve. continents adrift or species evolved. Sands of glass sands of time, drowned in depthless waves crowned with foam, suffixed with future of desert alkaline.

The pebble as it was lives still. tiny rubble obscure stone. 

Its will that waves could not break. Centuries past in its wake, yet its stays, not alive, nor dead.

Emblazoned thus in small crack, enduring lines of ancient salt  

Sea couldn't uproot its quarry, winds were but a roar,

immobile lump of ordinary rock that stayed stuck before that time on a sea shore

unbeknownst to you and I, its roots protruding from earth's core.