I sit beside you upon a rock.

Sometimes you are old and tired,
Sometimes young and confused,
Sometimes wrinkled and eroded by time,
Sometimes unblemished and new.

You are always in the same place though,
Although what you look out at is almost never the same,
A desert vista,
A wooded mountain,
A busy city,
The ocean as it crashes with great spray.

I sit beside you as you look out upon the scene,
And gaze upon your face,
The expression sometimes fearful and clenched in anguish,
Sometimes with joy and lack of pain.

I sit with you there,
Looking out at the world,
Sometimes you tell me your tale,
Of battles won,
Of lovers lost,
Of incredible adventures and times relived once again.

Other times you scream at the unfairness,
You blame me,
Shouting obscenities and things profane.

Other times it is but a quiet prayer,
A litany of holy scripture and proverbs that you repeat every day.

But in the end you always quiet down,
And look upon my face,
With tired eyes,
With heavy bones,
And listen to what I have to say.

I never say the same thing twice to you,
As we sit,
Upon this umbral plain,
And once complete,
We look out upon the world,
As the distance starts to haze.

Sometimes you ask if it will hurt,
Sometimes you ask what comes next,
I just shrug my shoulders and give a little smile,
For the next event was never meant for my gaze.

You close your eyes,
As you leave this place,
Finding peace in an eternal embrace.

I know each of your faces,
I come to know each of your stories,
And to each one I shall weep.

For you will never be alone,
I shall be waiting,
Upon that rock,
Waiting quietly to speak.