Two men under a moonlit sky
Stacking stones

With heavy hearts and tired limbs
Stacking stones

Others slowly passing by, look and wonder why
They are
Stacking stones

The men know, though others question
That they have good reason
For their enduring habit of
Stacking stones

Their journey to here long has been
Trial marking and marring their way
Still they use the last bit of their strength
Stacking stones

The benefit they get
From their laborious task
Is worth the price
Of fortitude
That they pay
Stacking stones

The men finish
And turn
Finally going to their homes
To rest, if only for a time
From what seems like the ceaseless work of
Stacking stones

A small child
Young and innocent
Questions the men as they pass by
Returning home, no longer engaged in
Stacking stones

The men turn
And manage some few words
To the one questioning
Why they are
Stacking stones

For these stones they say remind them
Of how far they have come
For many many many years each pile represents
To them a reminder
Of a victory won
And so when all seems lost
They look upon the hill
Where their have toiled
And then they
Cannot help but remember
What they have accomplished
To drive them to go on
Stacking stones

So as long as they can lift
These rocks from the rushing river
They will carry on
Stacking stones.

(theinkthatspeaks.blogspot.com)