Stone

Go inside a stone 
That would be my way. 
Let somebody else become a dove 
Or gnash with a tiger's tooth. 
I am happy to be a stone. 

From the outside the stone is a riddle: 
No one knows how to answer it. 
Yet within, it must be cool and quiet 
Even though a cow steps on it full weight, 
Even though a child throws it in a river; 
The stone sinks, slow, unperturbed 
To the river bottom 
Where the fishes come to knock on it 
And listen. 

I have seen sparks fly out 
When two stones are rubbed, 
So perhaps it is not dark inside after all; 
Perhaps there is a moon shining 
From somewhere, as though behind a hill— 
Just enough light to make out 
The strange writings, the star-charts 
On the inner walls. 

--Charles Simic