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Looking For That Blackstone
the black stone is not significant
there is nothing in it that makes you be amazed
it is round and not as shiny as your gem
the diamond that glitters in your hand
the black stone when put beside
become nothing,
but it is my black stone
my silence lives there
my rage is kept there
even my love is there
how can you understand
what i am when the black stone
my essence you do not mind
it is round like the truth
it is hard and harsh like all realities
it is silent like the night
it buries itself somewhere
that place where you have never been to
it is a mere black stone
it is mine alone
i am that
black stone, but you never want to remember
poem
by
Ric S. Bastasa
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