PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

In a dry and desolate realm, I found myself near a hill brown

Across its sunbaked face lay plain black rocks whose essence

Seemed a manifestation of the bleak hill's very existence

From the raised rim of the valley, I turned and looked out widely

Grassland extends from the foot of the vast earthen mound

A gentle river meanders through patchwork fields of greenish tone

With pastures not yet blanched pale gold by summer sun's glow

Turning back to the hill, it seemed to have a decidedly steeper face

As they always do when immediately at one's immense base

With appearance foreboding, I thought it not worth exploring

Foxtails and an assortment of other weeds carpeted the grey dirt

I retreated back twenty something feet, toward the verdant heath

Seeking an enjoyable place to roam, I ventured into an open field

The veneer green and pleasant, was merely a phantom of vibrance

Astonishingly, it too was dry. Flying insects swarmed with zeal

Petrefied spectral figments of long since decadent pigments

Color clung desperately to a faded and desiccant existence

Parched vegetation pricked at my shins, like a thousand sharp pins

I returned with chagrin to the lofty hill and offered capitulation

Preferring it to the fields for it displayed no false presentation

I could not be disappointed, being already thoroughly dispirited

I began climbing the slope and looked forward to finding nothing

"I must admit" I say, "this at least has patches weedless and gray"

An attempt to convince myself I tread the lesser of two badlands

Here and there hot rock forbade the growth of all but ocher lichens

Hopping from one to another, the plants became almost no bother

Each dark stone was like an oasis in a desert of cactus thorns

Curious of how they came to be on the hillside they did now adorn

I lowered prostrate, perhaps there lay secrets in the conglomerate

"Were they special?" you may ask, I found no evidence to hint so

When then I stood, my sight again beheld the fields below

Greenery feigned opulence, cooing in my ear of its flocculence

Knowing now the deception, I left it to the buzzing insects

I scaled a behemoth cobble, aslumber on bed of gravel

Atop the boulder lay what might have been a water basin

But the pool being empty had only dust from evaporation

This would have been resplendent, had water been existent

Once damp mud was now dust, entirely devoid of moisture

I shut my eyes, imagining how it might look after downpour

Slowly opening each eye, I found the stone still dismayingly dry

Leaping along the tops of bleak rock, I continued my way

It was then I realized, I had found comfort in their lifeless gray!

I felt relief in finding large flat faces of stone, even so blandly toned

"Yes perfect," I would exclaim as I came upon exanimate igneous

"Plenty of room to step, no prickly weed to stab at my extremeties!"

Their granular exterior, offered respite from the brier

Globs of long hardened lava became my pathway, my guide

Desire rose to put into word, my odd bond to something inert

To describe in expliciteness, the rock's peculiar exquisiteness

I search them out, and am thankful to set foot on their solidity

Though they remain dull, bearing no glint nor crystalline anatomy

Inexplicably, even as the sun begins to set, I seek their austerity

"I ought to return home" I think, still jumping from boulder to stone

Peering into their ancient depths, examining the silent composition

Their eroded sides, the clefts, overhangs, and every protrusion

"You must be overlooking something" I accused chastising

I yearned to uncover some secret, embedded millennia before

I unearthed no arcane knowledge, found no precious ore

Arriving at a boulder the largest yet, I began to intensely study it

And discerned it had unawarely been the goal from my initial ascent

Dusk fell, and with destination reached at last I began to descend

Now in twilight, firm stone was indistinguishible from thorny blight

I stumbled down the hillside scree, waded through a cheatgrass sea

Concluding, that if indeed I had at last found an elusive beauty

I dare not bring anyone to the archaic monolith, and say "See this!"

"This is worthy of reverence, is it not?" For they'd think me insane

Pointing, grinning, and whispering to myself and the terrain

A madman leaping from rock to barren rock, sweating in the sun