IN THE VOICES OF STONES:

From rocks, boulders, pebbles, stones & scree,

I hear the hard skinned voices calling out to me,

“Beware my friend for surely the time will come,”

Their singing chorused, by moon, stars & mighty sun.

From the wailing of winds & threatening harsh breeze,

From throbbing hearts of beasts dying on their knees,

From the weeping of iced mists & the teardrops of rain,

 From the newly hewn souls of old trees crying in pain.

I hear in the pleading of plants & the sad ebbing of tides,

I hear it in the cracking of lakes & as melting ice slow slides,

I hear voices in the bleeding of earth & erosion´s sad plea,

As the plastic world chokes oceans, forests, deserts & seas.

I hear the old warning voices that are unheard by all men,

Echoing over Stone Mountains, in forests, cove, hill & glen,

I hear the pounding blood of the old ancestor’s bones,

All is heard in the voices of boulders, pebbles & stones.