Skipping Stones

The stone gracefully treads over the river,
Showing the world it’s beautiful ballet.
The tune of the ripples — eternally angelic,
Points to the stone, asking me if that is freedom

I reply “Indeed, for what else could it be?
To shape its own course, unfettered as a bird released from its chains;
Tipping you into existence, making everyone hear your delightful tune;
And dancing to it like a playful dragon.”

But enraged, the ripples revolt;
Offering it a taste of the river’s intoxicating elixir.
And then drowns the stone, gullible enough;
Only to be replaced by another one I throw.