Jul 5, 2017

Stone warm, rock soft 
There’s nothing harsh
About a material
That hold in its cracks
The stories of forever,
The sorrows of the past
The love of people
And the blood of war.

The rock remembers. 
Does a cold heart
Feel pain and 
Radiate love?
Does a hard heart
Crumble when hurt,
Choose to stand up
When all is forgotten,
Choose to remain
When no longer needed?

Stones last. 
They love.
They feel,
Breathe, live. 
They are warm.
They are soft.