Stone Flower Gray

Deep in the rock as deep as each drop of rain over time cracks appeared there end, end to end in and out. I some times wander right here back some times back to there. Some times waiting to see the first crack of the sun through the blinds like that I feel on my face every where. Even then as I started out alive in the sun as simple a thing, living a life, wanting in like you all my life staying alive, remaining alive, sneaking in, I hope it's alright. The flower that is, is not what is. It is that thing, that stone thing underneath from the sticks inside of hers, my Mother's mind though not as of yet seventy nine years, eighty she will get come this month. Life unto death, sleeping in fields, green leaved colored vines. Some can't come to the supper I made hypnotic tone one octive apart there on the chart sounds I make, once way back when I made the sounds, I came here to hear that stone rose the end is the end, when it ends, is that the end that you want?