The Myth of Stillness
Somewhere, there is a stone
that has always been there,
before any other limb of the world.
The stone has never fallen,
never chipped, never rolled softly,
never scooted a millimeter,
All matter grew up
around it, wanting to be closer
to its stillness.
There is a secret inside of it
but it cannot speak
so
we keep guessing.
Stillness... your poem makes me contemplate the concept, and whether it truly exists.
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