Stained Red

Once there were two stones
Grey and smooth, well rounded
The smaller one was flung forcefully
It struck hard an unwary head
And was tainted red with blood

The larger one’s fate was different
Rose to the stature of a god
With vermilion and a fresh garland
It began to reside respectfully
In a shrine installed devotedly

Ignorant of their existence
As they lay on the riverbed
They did not make their destinies
The fate of each was sealed
By the forces inherent in man

The first became a weapon bloody
Star-crossed missile of someone’s wrath
The second was venerated as a god
Both stained red but ah! What luck!
One was scorned, the other adorned!