It lays ashore, such a curious little thing.
“Little,” such a curious word.
It screams at such demeaning blasphemy,
Dumbfound at the single coherence of such madness.

But to who is there to compare?
The others who sit motionless and content,
scatterbrained and nonchalant?
Their pure presence is but a convenient burden.

It lays ashore, such a curious little thing.
The face retains a much smoother complexion,
the crevices not so jagged or ill formed,
and the jaw line is crisp and unyielding.

The others use its shadow quite like an umbrella,
Sand and Grit and Gravel only reach its feet.
Those underlings think nothing of it,
but it still projects a powerful, unchallenged gaze about them.

It knows its place in the world,
But it still flexes its superior muscles,
swings its mighty pendulum of perfection,
and roars with the boom of a supersonic god.

It lays ashore, such a curious little thing.
He cannot help but stick his nose in the air,
for it is in his Nature to do so.
What else would be expected,
of a Boulder among Rocks?