Story about a Stone

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Amazing sea shore lies in all its immense beauty. Here, seemingly opposite to each other elements are combined. On the one hand, the hot Sand -the relentless and merciless warrior of the destructive Desert. On the other hand, the cool Water- the life-giving power of the creator of the World, Ocean. Similarly, Death and Life are intertwined in this place, creating the unusual conditions of existence for those, who are, at the will of fate, on the border of their worlds.
Smooth, polished to a shine stones and pebbles, scattered along the coast, claim the title of centenarians of this mysterious portal. And it seems like who but they know the main secrets of this life. But is it really so? Are they actually in charge of what is outside of the space they occupy?
The Stone is a stone, as they say, solid fossil. Once he was a part of a huge rock, which rested its apex in Heaven itself. However, living in unity, stone dreamed of independence.
Numerous cracks of doubts eventually made their destructive work, putting his dream into reality. But the long-awaited independence was not as joyous as he imagined. Every day, the elements, just competing, tested his strength. Stone was bursting with anger and resentment.
The Stone desperately resisted the Wind, which was exfoliating his grains of sand and gradually transforming the stone into dust. He contradicted the Sun, which was heating his surface. Stone countered even Water, which he secretly tended to, especially when she was washing him with her life-giving freshness to save from the burning rays of Sun. The Stone liked to be such an impregnable creature, even before the rhythmically rolling waves.
Stone was proud of himself, of his form, his independence. He laughed at the Sand, which was easily controlled by the elements. He did not realize that over some time, he will suffer the same fate.
Most of his days were boring. He kept looking at the depressing sameness and monotony of the landscape. Sometimes he amused himself with a question: "so, what's the point?" Often, watching the flight of Birds, the Stone was jealous of their freedom and ease with which they reached the most luminous heights and unknown distances beyond the sky. There were seconds when he longed to exchange all his long dreary life for a brief moment of exquisite, swift flight.
And the Stone kept on living his "boulder" existence only in himself and for himself. He did not even notice what a marvelous and mysterious place he was threw in by the fate. He did not see how much time and efforts were spent on him by Sun, Wind and Water to convert him, a silly, solid substance, in a qualitatively new state. But too strong was his pride for centuries. Too heavy was his matter.
Apparently this is why the stones, what lie at the crossroads of two worlds, know only their own humdrum lives. And although some of them have outer edges perfectly polished, yet inside they remain only a stone.