The small stone,

misshapen by history

and the waves that lap at the Gods

smoking tobacco

as they hold back the Nile,

sits perfectly still

on the edge of my wooden desk

now

only serves to remind me that the world

is forever calling out to be explored

and whilst I have forever stained

its appearance in indelible ink

with the date of its discovery

and the place on the Nile

in which countless eyes

ignored its white dimpled shell,

it says that there is yet more rock to see;

so much for my vision to witness

before they grow old and tired,

before they see only semaphore

in the sand.

Ian D. Hall 2016