Not Forgotten

I hold stones in my hands and lucidly wonder where to cast them... Gems to my artistic eye, and wondering mind-- stupidly letting a few fall through my fingers. Bringers of aimless ponderings on probabilities and possibilities, these stones. Tones within my synapse in a relapse of liabilities and recent hostilities. Sure the responsibilities aren't on me, but I dream of human equality not masquerading frivolity.

I digress, and get back to laying these rocks to rest. Pressed to my palm, those that remain in my hands, are the ones that keep me calm. Bomb-shell the hell out of me and I won't rile. Guile, compassion, understanding and curiosity are the stones which remain. Insane as it may sound, letting the other ones hit the ground doesn't mean they're forgotten.

|| another-proser ||