Unsightly Stone

There was a stone that I once saw,

dry,

hardened,

firm.

It must be heavy.

So unsightly, I thought.

But when I picked it up,

how light it was

and soft,

not a stone at all.

With my hands,

I broke it apart,

revealing the oh-so-succulent seeds

of a pomegranate.

Had I listened to the thoughts

by which I had first judged,

never would I have known

such a taste.