The Absence of Wavelength

flung

a sinking stone
needs water to process,
find bottom.

when did i become so small
i could be flung
by the ignorant young?

when i first glimpsed heaven,
you had tossed me,
forsaken by your small hand,
smooth as my cover,
tender but not as hard.

i had the most beautiful vision.
air split by my force,
no gravity for what seemed eternity.
my relativity, your passion thrust.
my potential had peaked again.

but the bend would come.
arc sudden-shaped before i
could arrive at hopeful vision.
the fall inglorious,
an imposition of fear loomed
ahead of impending fate.

and now here i have come
to meet the sediment.


5.3.21
if we're calling this a poem:
freeverse, 26 lines
5.4.21 edut

relating to an unwanted stone, with emotion and loss...still working on

"This is the time"