Rocks Do Not Float

Rocks... do not float.

They start off by breaking off from bigger rocks.

Then, as they sit at the bottom of the ocean, they are weathered down and smoothed out.

The pressure crumbles them until they are perfect.

They don't become perfect over night.

Slowly, the rock gets smaller and smaller as its edges curve and its body softens.

This process, as processes do, takes time.

Nobody wants to wait for the rock to smooth out.

But, once the rock has become perfect, it drifts with the current of the ocean it's in and ends up on some shore in some new place.

Someone picks it up.

They take it home.

All it has ever been to them is perfect.

It never was anything but what it is

The rock was never perfect.

I do not float.

I sink to the depths of the sea and am weathered down.

My edges curve; my body made smooth.

I am the rock.

I broke from a firm foundation and ventured to unknown territory.

I changed and become smooth; perfect.

I fight the current of the sea and grasp for air.

Air does not come.

I try to swim but the waves pull me back under every time I come up.

For I am a rock that cannot swim in this vast unforgiving ocean.

But as I soften out, the current makes me lighter.

It carries me until I wash up onto a shore and gasp to breathe again.

Rocks are not perfect.

I am not perfect.

I do not float.