This is a rock. It is a rock found on the path to the ancient well of St Non near St David's, Wales. One side of the rock is one-and-one-half inches long and flat. It's a piece of stone—genus unknown.
The rock is three-quarters of an inch thick, looking at it end-to-end; it's a rectangle with one of its points chipped away. From above, the rock appears to have a finger-shaped edge as if a pregnant future-saint laid her hand there as she labored to give birth to another future-saint.
Not counting a small notch-like overhang, this rock has six sides, including its ends. It will stand on one side if one prefers. But cannot stand on the other side. There is a bit of yellow lichen on this rock. It is blackened in places, perhaps by the petrified blood of someone ancient, someone nearly beatified. There is a rust mark on the rock, which is the color of red clay, the sort of clay one would imagine made the feet of a clay man.
Many planes are upon this rock. Counting these planes will involve an eternity, and who, other than perhaps this rock, and maybe the dead, ascended, or the Gods themselves, has an eternity?
One side of the rock is flat and half an inch wide. This side is curved on its edge and bears strike marks, or maybe it's wear from the blade of a stone saw. Perhaps the tool of a humble and devout mason who kept the Sabbath and provided for his family formed a guild when he grew older. And, from this one mason sprung every temple, every old stone chapel, every manufactured salvation.
There is white on the rock, a fading design, once decorated ornately with all the signs and symbols of a mysterious ancient religion, now lost to this world. I was lost because it chose to be lost. For what is a religion without the faithful? It is nothing. Just as this mysterious rock is nothing more than a rock, it is no longer part of an ancient cathedral that stood as a place where voices together could rise in worship and awe.
The rock is no longer a part of the arched entryway to a magical place. But be still and do not grieve for like DNA this rock contains everything needed to recreate faith. It is a blueprint. It is a key and will unlock a mystery. This rock makes solid beauty. It is the structure of now encasing ancient wisdom and foretelling of sacred tomorrow.
All of this is held in the hands when holding this rock.
