Plenary Rock

Let us get on toward the ekphrastic.
Vivid, lucid, deranged assumptions of a fanatic.
A rock. A rock, Nina Simone could be hiding under.
Sins and hymns swim about in vain.
Yet, the soul of a rock wishes to remain.
Considering the motion and commotion around so reckless and insane.
Stoic and heroic.
If proud, never mutters, I’d never loud.
Sits content, does not resent…. But I do.
And We are fashioned with intent.
Swatting at prophesies, so set on altering realities.
We pick up that plenary rock. Some throw it through windows, others use it as dildos.
But I, I smash my un-conceived child’s brains in with it. Then gently return it from whence it came so it may reflect on what it has not done and its new found fame.