Like stones from a river, jutting and still, you
wallow in time yet never move nor evolve.
You are strong, and so arrogant. Strutting, you
show off, but all rocks are grinded by the flow.
If change broke as a wave from the swell of time,
could you stand and fight the currents that follow?
The mountains dive in as giants; a dust
of brown is what returns. The water dissolves.
Adam stood as a rock, and rebuked the time.
He gouged the Earth with ploughs, and she bled a stream.
Why pull the tattered flesh apart, to drown in
the river of tears? “The water’s fake,” we cry.
The angels laugh in scorn. A suicide of
race: we mutilate our faces into dust.
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