Of All The Billions

I have a stone.
Wide, flat, slightly oval,
I keep it in my pocket.
I found it when I wasn't looking -
or it found me -
knowing the shallow valley along its back
would rest effortlessly upon my finger
while my thumb turned circles
on its smooth, round belly.
Few know it is there,
this steady companion
that keeps me grounded and
keeps me dreaming.
But it doesn't need to be hidden.
It won't lose it's magic in the light of day.
Soon I'll hold it in my open palm,
showing anyone who will look:
"See, here! The beauty!
Did you even know such a thing existed?"
Those who see with their eyes
will call it a fine stone
but argue there are billions and
surely many a stone would do.
But those who see with their hearts
will recognize the miracle in finding
the one that fits seamlessly into your hand
even when you reach for it in the dark.
Of all the billions,
that one you keep.