the Rock

I found this the other day while cleaning off my hard drive. I am about 99.9% sure that I wrote this piece. One thing I will tell you about my writings, they are very emotionally revealing about me. I don't write stories or poems very often, but I am definitely in a mood when I do write. I know exactly what this piece is about and the mood/emotions I was in the time that it was created. Sadly, emotionally I am not that far away from when this was written. I will have to look for my notebook that I used to write in all the time right after my mother passed away. There were a few good pieces in there. There were also some real strange thoughts/ramblings/nightmares in that notebook too. If I find the notebook, I will add a few of the better ones in here.

the Rock as the rain came down, the rock stood tall and proud with every raindrop, the rock held it's ground each individual raindrop that fell had hit the rock in a different way each raindrop was it's own destructive experience over time the rain had washed away all the plants, all the bugs, all the animals, and all the sand, but the rock was still standing in the end, the rock was still there, worn down a bit by the rain, and even though everything else was gone without a goodbye, all the plants and bugs and animals and sand were washed away without a trace, the lonely rock still stood all alone