The Stone

Juan Miguel Torres

A man walked through the woods and for a moment noticed a flash of light on the ground. He approached only to see a transparent stone shimmering and reflecting and not making a sound. He became enamored gazing upon its sunshine. So he took hold of the stone and he put it in his pocket. It was his now, yet he had very little use for it. He did enjoy the way it shined, almost as if the light came from inside. After a while he put it aside in his room and would look at it from time to time. Soon though it just sat there like many of his other possessions.

Many years passed and still that stone sat on its shelf, now glimmering less. Dust had settled and kept the shimmering from shinning out. One day, many more years hence, another man came into this room and glanced around and at once was struck by the beauty of the stone. Its many faceted faces, covered by a grey dust, still fascinated him. He knew exactly what it was and imagined immediately how it would shine without the dust. He picked the stone up very slowly, almost with reverence, and with a cloth cleaned the stone and wiped the dust away. And he smiled, admiring its beauty as it glimmered sending out its rays of pure light. He walked away with the stone wondering, amazed how anyone could abandon such a beautiful stone.

Some time passed and the first man came back into his room. One day, by chance, his eyes came upon a place where no dust laid and then he thought, my stone. It was gone. He sat by his bed and wondered where it might have gone. His mind raced but no memory could he recall where he had misplaced his stone. And now, a sorrow took its place. He thought back to that day in the woods when it shimmered, light hitting upon his face. Had only I cared and kept it cleaned and glimmering, perhaps…. but he could not end his thought.