I broke a small rock yesterday.
Kicked it hard right into a wall.
I never thought rocks died.
I didn't even know they lived.
If I had I might not have kicked as hard.

Then I dreamed that night.
I won't tell you what I saw.
I was sorry but that's not enough.
I could have gone looking for the rock again.
If only to beg for forgiveness.

But I might kill him again.
It might be a flower I step on this time.
But I don't think it was my fault.
I thought he'd only been a man before.
I didn't know the rock I killed was God that day.

- Josh MacLeod, 2001.