I used to skip pebbles across
the surface of a trout filled brook,
watch them glide to the bottom
and glisten in the sun.
Growing older, I plummeted through
layers of pressure to the murky depths
of the sea hunting for buried treasure.
It took a lifetime and near death to
finally realize the futility of my search.
We cannot know why some float
and glisten while others plummet into
an abyss never to see the sun again,
or why one seed lands in a fertile field
and another in a sea of concrete.
I used to think I could do anything,
the master of my destiny,
until I realized that free will doesn’t
mean I can command rain from the sky
or stop the howling wind.
We have no more control than the rocks.
Even if we find the treasure we seek,
it will almost always be too heavy to lift,
impossibly located under a cliff
covered over with sea grass, algae,
and fossilized barnacles
protected by great white sharks.
Our only choice, whether we use
our free will to shine.
First appeared in The Enigmatist, Volume 7
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