My God Rock has searing powers.
Smooth like rounded glass in right pocket,
thumb and index finger manipulate it.
Erosion is my term.
I use it so often, maybe it wears,
But I’m told I polish it.
It fills my heart with stillness,
floods me with compassion,
stifles me into silence,
allowing me to care with love.
If I touch the rock before I speak,
the anger flows down the street,
and my mouth releases no poison.
a peace so full,
I wish I could hold it forever.