Wind and Stone

WIND AND STONE

The wind that blows against the cliff
Is only breath, so weak yet swift,
But carrying some grains of grit,
Like tiny hammers, to fling at it.

Thus bit by bit it wears away
The silent stony face of gray.
The wind is weak, the stone is tough;
But being tough is not enough.

Forever comes the wind to play,
And bit by bit wears it away.
The stone is full, the wind is thin-
But in the end, the wind will win.