{rocks. paper. scissors.}

I have been playing with a specfic story for a long time with this title, and when I found this poem, it made me smile.

Song of the Powers

Mine, said the stone,
mine is the hour.
I crush the scissors,
such is my power.
Stronger than wishes,
my power, alone.

Mine, said the paper,
mine are the words
that smother the stone
with imagined birds,
reams of them, flown
from the mind of the shaper.

Mine, said the scissors,
mine all the knives
gashing through paper’s
ethereal lives;
nothing’s so proper
as tattering wishes.

Read the rest of this poem by David Mason at Poetry Out Loud.

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