I’d been standing underneath the sun for hours in the heat,
When I came upon a largish piece of quartz between my feet,
I sunk my pickaxe deep inside the rock which shone with all,
The pretty colours trapped within a gorgeous crystal ball,
The axe swung down a hundred times, the rock stayed the same shape,
And in my own frustration all that I could do was gape,
The colours of the magic quartz were hypnotizing me,
I’d noticed others resting underneath the nearby tree,
But determined, covered in cold sweat I continued my work,
To try to find the treasures which inside the rock may lurk,
When twenty days had passed I realized I had not eaten,
But by a piece of stone I was so sure I’d not be beaten,
I’d had no sleep, was miserable and fearful of the creatures,
Alone and in the dark now I could recognize their features,
But instead of marching home I bent and carried on my chore,
Beating away forever like the sea upon the shore,
A year had passed, I knew deep down I’d made no actual progress,
But I told myself the rock was smaller so as to defeat stress,
I looked around and noticed I’d been on my own some time,
The hammering of the pickaxe like some old forgotten rhyme,
And as I slaved on foolishly with rusty worn out tool,
I wondered why on earth I had been doing this at all?
Jul 29, 2017
Jul 29, 2017 at 6:11 AM UTC
I’d been standing underneath the sun for hours in the heat,
When I came upon a largish piece of quartz between my feet,
I sunk my pickaxe deep inside the rock which shone with all,
The pretty colours trapped within a gorgeous crystal ball,
The axe swung down a hundred times, the rock stayed the same shape,
And in my own frustration all that I could do was gape,
The colours of the magic quartz were hypnotizing me,
I’d noticed others resting underneath the nearby tree,
But determined, covered in cold sweat I continued my work,
To try to find the treasures which inside the rock may lurk,
When twenty days had passed I realized I had not eaten,
But by a piece of stone I was so sure I’d not be beaten,
I’d had no sleep, was miserable and fearful of the creatures,
Alone and in the dark now I could recognize their features,
But instead of marching home I bent and carried on my chore,
Beating away forever like the sea upon the shore,
A year had passed, I knew deep down I’d made no actual progress,
But I told myself the rock was smaller so as to defeat stress,
I looked around and noticed I’d been on my own some time,
The hammering of the pickaxe like some old forgotten rhyme,
And as I slaved on foolishly with rusty worn out tool,
I wondered why on earth I had been doing this at all?
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