I reject the senseless notion
That I am but a rock
A tiny gravelly pebble
Buried deep in someone’s sock

Instead I lay beside
All the tossing and turning
Through one squinted eye
I see the levelling and yearning

For underneath the floorboards
There’s a shudder and a creak
Of all that’s buried deep within
The memories of the weak

For what we all do crave days end
Is softer ground to lay our head
A quieter rest and patience deep
On rock the wise do tread

Isaiah 32:2