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To Poke a Rock With a Stick

I poke the rock with a stick.
Why won’t it move?
What a boring lump.
Time stretches forward indefinitely but this rock will probably just lay here.
It might have been here for hundreds of years.
A hundred more.
Wait,
It just moved.
Or was that just me pushing it around with my stick?
I have immense power over this rock.
If I wanted to, I could throw it into the river.
I could polish it into a pearl and wear it as a necklace.
The rock is pretty ugly.
Or maybe it carries immense beauty?
Just think of where it could be in a thousand years…
Crushed into sand for the kids to shape.
Used as a crab’s home at the bottom of the ocean.
Forgotten on the ground, never to be thought about again.
Until the earth is swallowed by the sun.
Miserable rock living a miserable life.
I could pick it up.

where would I put it?
I know no crabs for which it would make a good home.
I can’t carry it forever.
It has to rest somewhere.
I’m probably going to forget about this tomorrow.
Forgotten rock.
Maybe I’ll visit this rock every day for my entire life.
My grandkids will hear the tale of the rock.
They’ll write clickbait articles about my strange obsession.
The rock will become something more than a rock.
A symbol of dedication.
Of love and commitment.
Or a daft old man’s strange hobby.
“lol, I gotta show this article to my mum”
I gotta go home soon.
There are microwave pizzas to be eaten.
There is porn to be watched.
There is the feed to scroll.
Bed to sleep in.
Good seeing you, rock.
One last poke for good measure.
Still no movement.
Goodbye forever.

Description

To Poke a Rock With a Stick

I poke the rock with a stick.
Why won’t it move?
What a boring lump.
Time stretches forward indefinitely but this rock will probably just lay here.
It might have been here for hundreds of years.
A hundred more.
Wait,
It just moved.
Or was that just me pushing it around with my stick?
I have immense power over this rock.
If I wanted to, I could throw it into the river.
I could polish it into a pearl and wear it as a necklace.
The rock is pretty ugly.
Or maybe it carries immense beauty?
Just think of where it could be in a thousand years…
Crushed into sand for the kids to shape.
Used as a crab’s home at the bottom of the ocean.
Forgotten on the ground, never to be thought about again.
Until the earth is swallowed by the sun.
Miserable rock living a miserable life.
I could pick it up.

where would I put it?
I know no crabs for which it would make a good home.
I can’t carry it forever.
It has to rest somewhere.
I’m probably going to forget about this tomorrow.
Forgotten rock.
Maybe I’ll visit this rock every day for my entire life.
My grandkids will hear the tale of the rock.
They’ll write clickbait articles about my strange obsession.
The rock will become something more than a rock.
A symbol of dedication.
Of love and commitment.
Or a daft old man’s strange hobby.
“lol, I gotta show this article to my mum”
I gotta go home soon.
There are microwave pizzas to be eaten.
There is porn to be watched.
There is the feed to scroll.
Bed to sleep in.
Good seeing you, rock.
One last poke for good measure.
Still no movement.
Goodbye forever.