This story I was told
Of a man
Who went into the night
And turned to stone
Grey marbled cold.
Ferns a bed made
Moss a blanket
Trees held his dreams
In the weave of bough and leaves.
Whispered to the wind
His story told
To those who would listen
Those who could hear.
Sky watched over Stoneman
Sun dappled by day
Starlight and moon
Bathed his nights.
Stone remembers everything
Glacial, slow as the drift of continents
Deep as ocean trenches
Stoneman sleeps.
On his awakening
Rivers run cold
Mountains make runes
Telling of the time
Stoneman cried oceans
Sang the sad memory of sand.
Time wears even Stonemen
His memories scattered on beaches
Washed by the salt tears of the Stoneman
Who came from the stars
Wore the cloak of the world
To clothe his bones.
Became the night and the day
Cried oceans of loneliness
Remembered by sand
His story whispered on the winds
His song sung to the air
I heard the story of the Stoneman
Whispered on a dying breeze.
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