STONE CIRCLE:

From dust and God´s deft hand man is born, formed and set upon life´s scree to tread. Calcium, hard and white, moulding bone. We dangle from the thread of fate, our destiny to love and hate. Skimming pebbles across life´s ponderings, we roll and tumble, gathering no worthwhile moss. While on bended knee, upon granite cold, to the Holy man we confess our sinful dross.

Some may chant to elements around circled ancient stones, while in far off forests, others throw the magic bones. We look up at mountains high, of rock and ancient block, hard and cold. We spend precious time chipping away at hilly hearts to build our hearths and homes.

In the end it all falls and tumbles as the earth complains of rape and grumbles and in our heads we hear the rumbles of rocky tears and cold stone weeping in desecrated mumbles, reducing all to pebble and scree and finally back to fine milled dust, everyone, you and me. So the circle of stone life completed, only to start once again, from the fragile and tiniest little grain.