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The Pebble



My prophet is a rock.
My martyr is another rock.
Look—this rock here—my savior.
These rocks—but it could be those—
or any other.  Feel them.
Smooth, jagged, cold.
This boulder is my ignorance.
This pebble is my soul.

All poems are written and copyrighted by Michael C. Rush.
None may be republished or repurposed without permission.