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.