Tribute to a small rock.

I have this 5 pound rock,
Unprepossessing, but
Awarded for services rendered.
It is the first among equals.

Most trophies mark an event,
A successful completion of a task,
Recognition of some accomplishment,
Real or imagined.

Unlike other awards
I think of it as a reminder
Of a Sisyphean effort,
Doomed to failure.

I found something resembling “rightness”
In the unambiguous attempt to offer aid,
An existential decision,
Made beautiful by its futility.

Unlike other awards,
The rock has made no demands
On my time or my space.
Occasionally it holds a door open.

My rock never needs cleaning,
Can be left indoors or out,
Impervious to weather
Or it’s surroundings.

It will certainly survive me,
My sons and their children.
Shall I leave it to a deserving soul?
Or add it to my will?

There is an inscription on the rock,
“Donovan”, (the prison's name).
Still, it shows no criminal intent,
But rather, invites meditation.

Deep, relaxing breaths
Looking for the true nature of the “rock”.
It is a true teacher, listens quietly,
Offering no judgment.