polished to perfection in the process of dissolution
and from this we have learned what, the way stone
worn down by water, carries no memory of what it
once was, the mirror reminds us, but now only this
as if what’s left of the stone can no longer define it
and the water comes still, rushing, over the surface
determined to erase us from planet earth, resolving
to leave us faceless, without reflection, polished to
perfection in the process of dissolution, i was once
stone, ceaseless lamentation, a tree bent in to wind
rustles its leaves in sun, it sees us, then we’re gone
Stephen Jackson