My Own Stone

                   (C) Copyright 1996 Kristoffer Lawson


	I felt the stone in my head. Throbbing as if it was a god trying
to fool me into reading the pages of my life right out loud to a crowd
I knew nothing about. I knew I should see the path ahead but the stone 
blocked my vision and distorted it into clouds of green and pink colours.
Reaching out blindly I could touch the endless stream of life as it flowed
past my nose. It felt like the stone that seemed to grow larger as I
stumbled along the road that didn't lead anywhere but straight ahead 
- and down. 
	Three men walked by me. They wore gleaming white bandages round 
their head and covered their eyes. I knew they were important, but I didn't 
know why. They showed me books, but I couldn't read, they whispered to me, 
but I had covered my ears to protect from the cold winter breeze. It was
futile so they left and I couldn't run after them any more. My legs were too
weak. The stone throbbed harder and my thoughts were clouded more.
Walking forward brought me nowhere any longer. Even the warmth of knowing
what lies ahead did not bring the uninhibited joy I knew so well.
	For a brief moment I noticed the path was changing, following 
its own selfish needs, forgetting a person with a grey rock in his head.
I followed of course. My destiny was in the path, the path was everything.
The path was wise I think. The next step made me realize what my stone was, 
and a stone always brings you nowhere.