Thursday, July 07, 2005



When I hold a stone
I feel its shape
And it's shapefulness.

I know that if I strike
This one here and here,
I will make an adze.

I brush this one
Against my skin
And I can feel it being
Scraped against hide.

And this one...
This one wants to be sharp.
This one wants to be potent.
This one wants to fly.

I can not bring the hunt alive
When we sit and sing
Around the sacred fire.

I do not have the skill
To render beasts and battles
Upon the deep walls
Of our caves.

But I know the stone,
And I shape it.

Photo courtesy of angela7dreams

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