Even rocks crack, I’m telling you,
and not on account of age.
For years they lie on their backs
in the heat and the cold,
so many years,
it almost creates the illusion of calm.
They don’t move, so the cracks stay hidden.
A kind of pride.
Years pass over them as they wait.
Whoever is going to shatter them
hasn’t come yet.
The above lines seem to describe how rocks can crack over time, not necessarily due to their age, but because of the harsh conditions they endure. Despite appearing calm and unmoving, the cracks remain hidden until someone or something comes along to shatter them. It’s like a metaphor for how even things that seem unbreakable can eventually succumb to the passage of time or external forces.
And so the moss flourishes, the seaweed
whips around,
the sea bursts forth and rolls back —
and still they seem motionless.
Till a little seal comes to rub up against the rocks,
comes and goes.
And suddenly the rock has an open wound.
I told you, when rocks crack, it comes as a surprise.
All the more so, people.
The above lines beautifully capture the idea that even though rocks may appear motionless, life continues to thrive around them. It’s when a little seal comes and rubs up against the rocks that a crack is formed, creating an open wound. Just like with rocks, people can also experience unexpected cracks or vulnerabilities in their lives. It’s a reminder that appearances can be deceiving, and we should never underestimate the power of small actions or interactions.
