Stones do not wrinkle up and wither away, blossoming into a new flower on the stalk;
Never ending- end.
We stand empty-eyed and stunned.
We cannot see the stones in our life; they seem to disappear over a flat horizon, but reappear.
There are no trees or bushes that have taken root beside the long length of life.
The land is flat, and only old wise rocks lay where life has left them.
They lay there without question, silent.
Silent and wise they rest while we stand open-mouthed and frightened.
They do not move
As we pass them and wonder at their quiet wisdom.
Looking at the many stones
Sitting and sinking into the ground;
We don’t understand a goddamned thing.