Rocks

We blast the rock and settle scores,
Flirt with mania and tender mores.
We pass the buck and open doors,
Pass on black and white for dull grays.

Seems simple and quaint, a bald season,
Here in the valley of stone and a river.
But it amounts to sublime treason
And cradles the beast in the mirror.

I never said the rock would build a palace,
Bring peace, or kill hegemony.
I never promised a time of healing,
A place of shelter, or a moment of silence.

We blast the rock and settle scores.