As I walked along the beach today, my mind was occupied by the beauty of the day including a clear sky and bright sun. I was enjoying the feel of the sand and surf at my feet. My eye was suddenly caught by a bright object at the water’s edge.
As I approached, I realized it was only a pebble that was wet from the water and reflecting the bright sunlight.
As I examined this pebble, I realized how pleasant it was to hold with its smooth surface and rounded edges. I thought of how this pebble must have started as a rough stone with sharp edges but after years of enduring the elements it had evolved to this beautiful polished creation of nature.
As I continued my walk I realized that this pebble is a perfect metaphor for how we evolve and live our lives. The longer we live and endure the forces of nature, the more we lose our rough edges and become more polished. This was not the only pebble on the beach. There were others of different shapes, sizes and colors yet they had all been polished by the same process and each had achieved its own unique beauty.
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Poetry, like any other art form can be esoteric or exoteric. Oscar Wilde said “Be yourself, everyone else is taken.” Therefore, I prefer an exoteric style in my poetry in hopes of avoiding any esoteric pretense. Ernest Hemingway is quoted as saying: "There is nothing to writing. All you have to do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed."
