The shadows snatch my feet
and heave them away from the rock.
My fingers grope the rock determinedly.
This boulder is the only thing I love,
my passion,
my muscle against the burden.
The shadows shriek and strike the rock,
the clang of pickaxes confirming each blow.
But the rock does not break.
It does not chip.
It does not crack.
It only digs each crevice deeper into the pebbled soil,
becoming more massive with each swing,
more immense, powerful, and proud.
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