The Rock

This is a photo of a rock taken last winter when the wind was howling and the sea was raging. It just lay there embedded in the sand, surrounded by chaos. It was not a very big rock, and except for some furrows, its surface was, more or less, smooth to the touch – evidence that it had been tumbled by the sea and polished by the sand. How old was it? Where did it come from? Had it ever been part of a bigger rock? What strong currents and tempestuous seas had brought it to this shore? So simple an object; so great a mystery.

And now that the season has changed, the winds have died and the sea is calm, where is it? Is it still there buried in the sand? Or has the sea carried it away, dragging it along its depths and depositing it on some other shore, in some other land? I wonder if I will ever see this rock again or if it has mutated and changed on this, or some other far-away shore, and been smashed into pieces - diminished, unrecognizable. And, when the years have taken their toll, will it be broken up into a million grains of sand to be trod on by the feet of future generations?