Wednesday, February 27


I love to stare these rocks, laid down along the way
pieces of dirt and stone coming together, seems in vain
each one of them alone, each one unique
what does this change, and what should it?
and what could one be, if not the weakest stream
peacefully strolling in between
nothing but filling up the space, in one's own way
it's only that, what makes us special
for these wild rocks are laid forever, down along the way
and it's this space where all with meaning comes to place