The Stone...Observed

A rock sits on the desk by this computer.  Or is it a stone?  Probably more stone than rock as it appears to have once been part of a larger object rather than an accumulation of smaller things. The stone, yes I've decided to call it stone,  fits easily into the palm of my hand, is flattish and more than less uniformly pitted.  I don't think it is marble but it has something about it that could easily be kin to Greek carvings after they have aged in the open air a millennium or two.

That it has been a separate self for some time is obvious because of the lack of edge.  A broadening at one end and  a point at the other suggest a Cycladic face shape.  Which probably accounts for why it made its way to this desk and has stayed on for several years now.  I bring this particular stone to account frequently because it is so  very bland. There are a number of stones and rocks scattered throughout the house, all more interesting than this one.

But here it sits, brought into service only occasionally as a paperweight.  Today I decided to address the fact of this stone's presence on my desk once and for all.  Why is it here? What do we share?  Strangely enough, I think it might be DNA.  Not a mutual strand or anything like that but rather our individual relationship to the helixical whole:  the stone's to mineral, mine to mammal. This stone has long since broken with its petrolistic origins  to become the separate entity that it is today.  As have I.  I think of the millennia of spiraling strands of DNA that I have separated from to become an individual.  Formed by, and expressive of, but separate, unique and whole all the same.

Maybe a bit pitted here and there myself.  More rounded with time certainly.  Less of the edge that I once thought described my being so well.  More of a willing embrace of the anonymity blandness recommends. On the outside anyway.  Inside, who can know without the breakage that would bring both stone and I to end in our current forms?

Separate, unique and whole the both of us.  I watch the stone, and can only wonder if it, too, watches me.