Taken for Granted

You want to put me in a sling,

think I am worthless,

cast me away.

Some days you fondle

me, rub your thumb pad

against

my earth worn face.

Do you wish me

to wound or heal?

I can draw blood

or lead to the pavilion

of meditation.

Within me, find ancient

truths, long tales

of travel, covert

messages.  You

skip me.

A shallow toss,

and you forget.

My ancestors

are your foundations.

Take me to bed.

When you cannot

sleep,

touch me.

I soothe you.

Slip me

in your pocket.

I protect, balance,

encourage.

I am pre-historic,

collecting archeology

in my veins.

We are allies.

Remember,

a stone is a mountain.

A rock is all that is.

C.J. Prince

©2015