I’m sitting on a piece of pre-history
this red rock is millions of years old
I rub its red crust between my fingers
trying to feel the sands of another time
I feel nothing. The dust is just dust… red and dead.
I get up to go
a tiny thorn pulls me back
I bend to discover a little wildflower
laughing under the rock…
like a bright blue sun.
Delicate, alive, defiant, young…
In that moment, Life asks me
what would you rather be?
the strong silent rock
unmoved by pain, undestroyed by death
or the tender wildflower
greeting each fleeting day
with life in every breath…
3 Poems that Inspire