THE LARGE ROCKS

Erik Flask

Shoulder as pivot for your full effort

The large rocks don’t seem to move as you push them

At least not at first

Then, you feel and you know.

Tired of this shameful trying trying.

Pushing and pushing to grind me away

Too much sand shreds and tears at my feet

Purchase is the price of being without the resources your previous generations smoked into the sky

As the grit smolders mid air in deep mockery

The grease of the second effort dries to a powdery soil

The drying is the cruelty and the relish as it takes its time, and therefore your time, is wretched

Rolling in dastardly revelation

Perched with stillness,

the truth that smiles back even more meanly than you against your grim, awkward, jeering grin

The little is enough

With repetition, again-effort, and comfort until….

The rocks are ground and now all sand