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Poetic T Apr 2020
We are but cadavers of memory,
                   cleansing the shore line


of word..

But sometimes we find
                that this shell will inexplicitly wash up again


more polished than before.
Now I remain a polished stone
The river coursing around me
In soft and easy contours
Yet my life was not always known
By this harmonious flow

But craggy and rough, long ago
Struck ten million times
By rocks and sand and more
My smooth and glossy skin, I owe
To turbulence and tumbling

Even water alone shaped me
By sheer endurance and patience
Grinding and wearing
Turning me into what you see
A smooth and polished stone

So wonder not that you feel worn
And feel struck by blows undeserved
Count this for a purpose
For with the tossing you are born
A smooth and polished stone
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A Polished Stone was inspired by a talk in church a week or so ago.  The speaker (my neighbor and friend) talked about how stones in a river get tumbled and parts broken off of them until they eventually get rounded and polished.

Then he likened that to us and how we also get polished by time by getting our rough edges worn off.

It's OK to have a stone in your path.  It's OK to get worn a bit - you'll simply be more polished.
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