The Stone

It starts. Momentum builds

Slowly

Then faster,

It travels, at the whim of its grooves

And its path.

Acceleration

(not constant, it’s more like erratic)

There’s no understanding its

Galloping math.

Equations are subject

To irrational moments;

In the slop-driven swarming

Of driveling minds.

The stone keeps pursuing,

Resilient and senseless,

It chips and it cracks, and

Then onward it grinds.

The sensory images

Allblendtogether

And start not to matter;

The stone is worn smooth.

Finally, the stone falls off the face of the earth.

Nobody notices.

Bliss.