I dreamt of the rocks I found in that
deep, continual creek. Moving, moving water that shapes and changes everything
willing to sit still long enough.
Spread out before me, smooth stones.
I marvel at their beauty unique.
Yet, a single stone was missing.
No one would notice, perhaps it’s only
special to me. Special to no one but me. Truly the stone was unlike any other. Almost round. But not quite. A line like a crack piercing through.
But not quite. Brown or grey, or brown-grey. Perfect. Not quite.
But perfectly mine.
Searching, searching for my stone, I
grieve it’s disappearance. Loss. Lost.
I awoke with a start, understanding
the ninety nine and the one
a little better than
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