The Stone

I looked into the blue stone
i’d taken from the tomb
seeking inspiration
from this obscure heirloom
held between my fingers
smooth edges hew’d by time
rolled out ancient imaginings
from the quarries of my mind
what stories could be captured
in such mundane a shell
if any soul was written there
the stone itself won’t tell
’tis up to you or me my friend
to interpret their history
for the stones that lay around us
hold their counsel silently.

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