making light
of distance and time
the time it takes
to toss a piece of rock
a stone, lacking a name,
unless, a Geologist,
I truly had become,
Arm poised back
the target, not moving
but acting as if,
the pain of such acts
will show itself
in another day, or two
making me think back
to why my muscles
would want to remember
such an act of sheer
time wasting, and yet
providing such
at hitting something
that couldn’t run, nor hide
nor cry out in pain,
no bad reflection
on my humanity
no evil deed, or act
of tossing
pieces of the earth