Saturday, February 18, 2006 | 6:32 AM

Stone by the pond.

Not stripped of skin by the waters of raging rapids.
Not scratched and bruised by pebbles and stones swirling in potholes.
No abrasions from sand particles in the flowing rivers.
Not struck by the pounding waters from the waterfalls.

Yet it changed.

Tower against the sky.

Standing against a backdrop of peach blue sky, on a deserted plain dotted with dried up shrubbery, it gave strength.
Fighting against the biting winds that stripped its armour, it gave protection.
Standing against the pelting, burning rain that tore its soul, it gave shelter.
Weathering the storms, it was a fort even as it gave.

Yet it survived.

I dont see your current self. I see an image drawn from my memory, of you a few years ago.
We talk, but I cant hear what you are saying now. I heard your reply, the exact replica of what you used to reply me with.

I didnt know you are such a leaf, that a gust of wind is enough to take you from my grasp. That a second gust sends you spiralling towards the sky, and that a third would take you out of my sight.

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