One act, one thing, one dot.
This is what you do.
What am I? Define me.
What do you see from your vantage point that I cannot?
What do you understand defeats me, makes me a rock?
Expand my knowledge, pray tell.
I have grown weary and worn, with a sprinkle of forlorn.
I cannot count on time, it is too unkind.
I cannot ask the wind, she leaves nothing behind.
When I query the sun, he burns me for a bit of fun.
I am ignored – set aside,
left on a shelf to extrapolate with myself,
the ins and outs of an ordinary life.
You see this don’t you? I know you do!
I’m at the bottom of a mountain top -