When the stones speak
they speak in the old language
of time itself.
they speak of endless tides
that wash them smooth
for infinity.
sometimes they whisper of Changes
where their roughness was polished
by the sands of time.
they whisper to me
my soul will be washed
like they were
smoothing its mperfections
until it will glow in the
rivers of forever.
to spend infinity
in a new perfection.
and to be blessed
by a life well lived.