Some of You are monoliths 
towering on the river Life's banks, 
controlling its flow like cliffs, 
and surrounding Us, a wall of tanks. 
Though majestic, 
Your surfaces are rough; 
being gigantic 
only makes Our life tough. 
We are trapped under that water's 
weighty current, 
hopign to spare Our sons and daughters 
from this torment. 
Because, for Us, there seems to be 
no escape, We feel only admiration, 
for You, not the hatred you should see; 
no, We often love You of higher station. 
We tumble about Your base, 
to be shattered or worn away, 
even dead supporting Your place, 
like silk collecting as clay. 
And yet You only seem to want, 
never Us, only each other, 
Your presence is but a taunt, 
and Our whispers just a bother. 
Never do You wonder 
If We just might be a gem, 
ores being Our bonder, 
when You could break them. 
But be careful; 
when We wash far downstream, 
and You tumble, 
it'll be too late to scream. 
A simple slip and splash 
with fading watery tones, 
falling with a clash, 
to the grasp of us Riverstones. 

April 15, 16, & 17, 1985