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Saturday, March 3rd 2007, by Marissa A Spencer
The Parable of the Rock
The rock lay suspended in his home of dirt and roots from the grasses above. He wondered when it would rain again. He loved it when it rained. The droplets would run over his form and tickle as they descended into the depths of the earth.
He had been noticing something near him. At first it was not quite as big as he was, but it seemed to be getting bigger.
“Hello! Hello, over there! Hey!”, the rock would wiggle and vibrate his message across. Nothing ever responded, which was odd. All he ever got was a slight gurgling sound as if it was an echo.
It wasn't the most exciting life being a rock. Of course he had a sense of knowing his own importance. He held the ground fast to the earth and helped to prevent the copious rains from washing every thing away. He also gave anchor to roots that grew above him. The roots he would see were like white angel hair reaching down to him. He floated in his world of soil and worms and sprouting seeds.
He also knew his own roots, so to speak. How so very long ago he was part of a huge amount of melted stone. He remembers burgeoning up through the lower realms and exploding into the air with delight and victory. Free at last! Down he landed and was part of a bigger rock. He thought of the rest of it as his family. They were all connected, but knew that someday they would go their separate ways. So one by one they broke off, rolled away and became their destined selves.
He also knew the Earth. She was his Mother. She was all knowing, and kind and fierce. She could be these things all at the same time or at different times. She was what one could call Mercurial, that wondrous power that pulsed through everything. He could hear the rhythm of her sacred song constantly. She was both liquid and solid, yet even the air held her magic. He would vibrate with her or in counter cadence at times. They were part of each other. He loved her and She loved him.
He was beginning to notice a change in the object near him. It resembled a rock to him, yet he had a feeling it wasn't one. As it grew in size he decided it was a potato. How disappointing! He admired all growing things, they were the Earth's children too, yet...a potato? They were not exactly the smartest rock in the ground you know.
“Hellooooooo?”, the rock said. The potato just sat there with all its eyes unblinking at him. “Well this is a fine kettle of night crawlers.” The rock muttered and finally gave up. This potato was like all the others. Totally oblivious to him. He finally figured it out what the problem was. He sighed and went back to his worm watching and water wishing.
He didn't speak “Potato”.
© March 3, 2007 Marissa A Spencer
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Category: Stories
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Wednesday, April 6th 2005: Into the Maelstrom Chapter 3
Sunday, April 3rd 2005: Into the Maelstrom Chapter 2, page 13
Saturday, April 2nd 2005: Into the Maelstrom Chapter 2, page 12
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