The Stone And I
S
Smoky Hoss
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I knealt low.
Getting a better look.
Wanting to pick it up, yet
feeling unworthy.
The simple small stone,
so plain yet precious,
having been here for eons, and I
only for a mere passing spell.
A temporary stature
is my lot-
Forever grounded is
the little stone's-
A question beyond measure
arrises like a fog:
Which has more soul
the sacred stone or mere me?
Together the stone and I
await the answer-
The little stone of course
has much more time, than I-
Bu şiiri puanla
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