Sedimentation

I often wonder about
My life
And how things would change
If events had turned out
Tragically.

Would I be the rock
Or the moss?

The rock:
Silent and strong,
Independent and alone,
Standing apart from the
Landscape of souls,
Jutting out from the surface of earth
Unintentionally hurting.

Or the moss:
Forever dependent,
Never stable,
Always trying to fit in
To camouflage the rock,
Blend in to the backdrop of society.

I fear the former
And envy the latter,
For, I am the rock.
I will always be
The rock.

My thoughts are incased
In thousands of years of
Sedimentation
Waiting to be fossilised
And put on display for everyone to see,
Found by some expert
Who'll make money from my discomfort,
From my pain.

Would life really
be all that different?