Stone

All of this strain, urge and ache 
are but the memories of a stone. 
All that I desired is but the smallest fissure.
All that I accomplished is but an erratic jagged edge. 
Every noble idea is but a discoloration. 
And the injustice I feel is an imperceptible abrasion. 

All things are but stone. All motion is but wind. 
All is all already,
and all it will be.