Art

Heart of Stone

There is a rock wall situated among isolated tepuis and arroyos where I once clambered,

peering as I thought into ages of misty past

at the growth rings of the planet itself.

It was there I found the Heart of Stone,

where it had dreamt for epoch upon epoch

after falling into some Ordovician sea,

a drop of blood perhaps from some long-vanquished Titan.

The sea at last thrust up the burden of stone,

and wind-blown sand began to erode its prison walls.

It awoke then, struggling to free itself from the matrix

and the heavy mantle of ages.

Perhaps even Soloman would tremble to see the rusting fetters that bind it...

how weak they seem to a Being for which time has no meaning, for which tomb and womb are one.

You and I will be dust when this labor is fulfilled,

when Earth expels its forgotten silent secret,

or perhaps we too will at last awaken.

For we also lie buried within the countless years and lives, struggling and unaware

that we are thus embedded

within Time.