The Beauty Within

It sat there, in the cold hard ground, lying where it had fallen. Trampled, discarded, left alone.

The stony cliffside was covered in rocks of all shapes and sizes. Beautiful rocks with hues of red, with brown streaks and stunning circular patterns. Crystals of every shape, size and colour. The cliffside was decorated with a multitude of treasures, glittering, shining, waiting to be found.

And so they came. The treasure seekers. They scattered about and filled the valley, looking, searching. Sounds of hammers and chisels echoed across the hillside along with the cries of delight as the treasure hunters filled their packs with load after precious load of the gems. The sun shone brightly and the rocks glistened in the light.

One rock, however, was left alone. As each treasure hunter would come across it, they would glance over its plain, rough exterior, and drop it back to the ground from which it came. Some picked it up and contemplated it more closely before discarding it, while others ignored it completely and walked on. Some muttered insults and threw it down harshly, and the rock bounced farther down the mountain with each harsh throw.

Each word, each painful fall, cut deeper. And yet each time a treasure seeker would stop, the rock would wait, wondering if perhaps this was the one who would accept it for its own true colours. Yet each time it was discarded.

And so, it sat there, in the cold hard ground, lying where it had fallen. Trampled, discarded, left alone.

One by one, as the sun began to set, the treasure seekers packed up their tools and began to head back down the steep mountainside. Their packs contained loads of the gems for which they had sought, but now that the sun had disappeared, the rocks no longer shone with the brilliance which they appeared to before. The gold which they had sought in the daytime became nothing but pyrite, and the rubies which had sparkled in the light now became worthless and dull. One by one, the disappointed seekers discarded their treasures in disgust and headed for home.

The sky continued to darken, and the rock sat there on the hillside, alone.

The soft crunch of gravel, however, announced that the hillside was not yet empty. A lone figure walked among the rocks, brushing away the earth from the discarded, lone boulders and examining each stone gently, with unencumbered curiosity. Perhaps this traveller, perhaps this one would see the rock’s worth. But having been rejected by so many before, it sat there, afraid, waiting for the insult or the blow that was sure to follow.

Yet it was a gentle hand that lifted the rock from the ground and examined it. Gentle hands that felt the scars from rejection. Gentle hands that carefully pried open the rock and saw the brilliant crystals and the magnificent swirls of colour that shone beneath the surface, unnoticed by the world, and yet containing a beauty beyond comparison, beyond belief.

It was gentle hands that had found the true beauty that no one before had noticed. And it was gentle hands that carefully carried the rock safely back down the mountainside.

And so the rock sat there, in the hands of someone who had discovered its true worth. Special, valued, safe.

And no longer alone.

 ~Sara Thompson, 2008