In an effort to understand spirituality and true life meaning,

I tend this poem at age 52 (2003). It represents my desire to

reconcile my scientific and spiritual understanding of life

and death. In it, I strive for a life that will go on for eternity

independent of the uncertainty of the afterlife.





The pebble is worn smooth,

made small over time.

A product of a cataclysmic force of nature.

A fragment of mountainous sheets of rock.

An accidental offspring of a boulder.

But still, just a tiny stone.


The pebble's place in our world

is neither understood nor appreciated.

But when thrown in a glassy, calm pond

its insignificance is transformed;

its meaning and purpose is unleashed.


The instant the pebble kisses the pond,

its signature of concentric ripples

spiral outwards,

moving far beyond itself,

gently affecting everything in its wake,

forever altering the smooth,

placid surface.


The pebble creates its worth and meaning

by unleashing its unimagined power

into a dueling force of action and reaction,

creating karmic energy,

producing  a lasting and fluid impression


Aren't we all pebbles?

Feeling small and insignificant.

but ultimately recognizing

that who we are meant to be

can never be measured in isolation

on a path into ourselves.


It is true:

Our everlasting future

is created by the indiscriminate tossing of pebbles

into the pond of life

creating ripples,

leaving a unique mark on our world,

not because of thoughts

or well-meaning plans,

but because of actions



Our life's prayers our answered

because even the smallest pebble

No matter how seemingly insignificant

change the course of lives

of those whom we touch. 


And when the icy winds of death

beckon our lasting attention,

we will gently leave this life

with the knowledge that

because of that one pebble

the world will never be the same


And then we have heaven …


Ross Rosenberg




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