Rupestrine- living among or growing among rocks
Darkness envelops the tiny speck that inhabits the softness underneath. The speck yawns, peeking through the shell that has embraced it for so long. A silver of illumination graces a lighter shadow in the darkness. Warmth, tiny speck muses tentatively stretching towards the heat. But no matter how fast it stretches the warmth is gone and tiny speck pauses, alone in the darkness. Eternity seems like forever as tiny speck wallows wondering where warmth went to. Sigh, what else could happen? Tiny speck speculates as drops off wetness seek it out in the darkness, pooling in softness. Ewww, yuck, what is this? Why am I here? I have to leave, and so tiny speck reaches further then before the time of warmth. Stretch, reach, climb, the darkness is falling away; black becomes gray. It seems too far. Tiny speck grows weary of climbing away from the darkness. There’s no hope. There’s no rest. I must rest. On this unyielding thing. I can’t go on. This is the end. Tiny speck lays against the unyielding thing, defeated. The gray grows muted. Tendrils of warmth embrace tiny speck. Warmth has returned and tiny speck crawls along the unyielding thing. Until a whole new world appears filled with warmth and illumination.
It seems as if we’ve been toiling over, around and under these rocks for hours! Sometimes the terrain is slippery, other times dry and throughout the summer months, steaming hot. I don’t know why we have to make this trek every single day! From one non-shaded end of open space to another, we scurry along, leaving our pheromones in search of whatever food might be available for others to follow. You would think that we could stay closer to where we usually find food, but nope, our fearless leader tells us that it’s safer to remain out of sight, secretly ensconced under and inside the coolness of the cracks and crevices of the rippled rock we call our home. Sometimes, much to our dismay; however, thankfully not too often, as soon as we emerge from the un-tilled soil beneath our behemoth protector, small humans lay in waiting to pick us off with their sticks or they fatally step on as many of us as possible in order to amuse themselves. I hate when that happens! But then there are times when the big humans come in twos, carrying a large square contraption that opens and closes and is full of food; I love when that happens because then we don’t have to travel so far for our dinner!
This was ths status of life for Joel Elliott. And after years of doing his best, seeing himself as a survior against terminally stacked odds, he now faltered before the looming realization that his survival, his success, had somehow accrued a debt, the term of which was rapidly approaching. His instinct whispered to him that this was not due to circumstance, as he had always chosen to believe, but by choice. A dry, acrid lump clinched in his throat at the bitterness of the thought. "You can't beat Nature," he felt, somewhere deep down.