What it means to be alive.

I thought I had turned to stone.

Cold and still. Frozen in time.

This is the way I thought. Stone survives all.

When the warm rains came and the frogs croaked,

I saw the ferns grow and the lichen spread.

The water wore grooves in the rocks and roots cracked boulders.

I thought: No, this. This is what it means to be alive.