Stones are family. They move in earth and water and are so strong
they cannot be beaten. Stones live within themselves without fear.
They change in winter through ice and in summer through sun.
Without regret they may turn to dust, eternal in changed forms.
They are distant from foolishness and do not hurt for scant reason.
On a summer evening I will take a stone in the palm of my hand
and thus address you
On the last day let me be you
You are proved to be the better.
Leslie Philibert
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