The Boulder

Year after year I push through the crust,
collecting the stone, the metal, the dust.
Till finally I arrive after the millennium trip
Standing proud at the mountains tip.

Year after year the rain pours down,
In the deep winter snow I'm buried, I drown.
The rough old stone now damp to the core,
the grip once strong is now quite poor.

Year after year I've stood at my post
Now suddenly I'm shaking and leave my host
With a mass oh so large I move with some force
barreling forward away from my source.

A millennium climb, now falls oh so quick
crashing through terrain oh so thick.
Till finally I find a field of flame,
I heat and burn but do not tame.

Minute after minute I cut my path,
both fire and rain have shown their wrath.
yet still I roll down this quiet old trail.
The end in view, yet behind a veil.

Hour after hour the sun heats my back
a humble home found on my track
The sunny days seem to never end
But I keep rolling on with no time left to spend

For year after year, I rolled on and on
a force moving through, of nature a pawn
and now I'm here where all this began.
Sinking down low at the end of my span.

Year after year I sat oh so still,
yet fire and rain were my journey's real thrill.
I drowned and burned, fell and laid,
but it was better to roll than to have stayed.