Tossing and turning
In my bed –
A pebble.
Slowly I am rocked by
Waves of dreams
Until I am no more than sand
On the shore of my pillow,
Gritty between the sheets.

With the dawn
Tide rolls out.
All manner of sea creatures,
Each more complex than the last,
Rest on my chest as I breathe
Deeply and try to recall
What it was to be a stone.

Abandoned shells,
Beautiful but
Empty
Lay between my fingers.
Shards of glass fall into the depths and
Wash up
On my toes
Sharp edges gone.

I cannot decide if I like
These things
Or if I would rather return
To being a pebble

You can hold a pebble
in the palm of your hand.
But when it's been pummeled
and turned to sand,
no matter how tight
you clench your fingers together
it'll slip through your hands.
Oh how the damaged ones slip through time.
Forgotten n spread across shore lines. Where different waves reach their lips only be pulled away before they reach,

Untouched n unfaze they become apart of the maze.
Left,
Right,
Up or
Down,
It's such a confusing haze. Her walls are high n you'll never find the center place.