Naming Stones

 

Here is a small bowl made of clay,
with a long crack down one side.
It holds eight smooth stones,
named for the facets of the moon.

It once held sandalwood and sand
ground fine by water and by salt,
in time ground fine by the spinning Earth.

The stone named Sleep is black
and veined to mock the stone named Death.

The stone named Death is white as pearl
and flat. It bends the light.

The stone named Love is pale blue
and marbled like a cloudy day.

The crack is named for Time.
In time, the bowl will come apart
and like the facets of the moon, go shining.

 

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3 thoughts on “Naming Stones

  1. Aw, thanks Kyle. I'm working up something now as I have an unscheduled day off. I think that bowl asked, "Hey, want to know who I really am?"You listened well, my friend. Funny how the simplest things around us suddenly come into focus. Or is it our senses just catching up?Whatever it is it's been a busy morning writingwise for me: two new song lyrics thus far and making notes for Naming Stones.Looking at it again, I'm going to endeavor to keep it as is, no rhyme-meistering, let it play out as a poemsong, I think. I may repeat a line, here and there, possibly truncate slightly for meter and sonic grace, but the music will be as a music box deep in a stone, deeper still in a cracked bowl.These things take time, but I'll let you know what I end up with.

  2. Joseph, thanks very much. Please feel free to make a song of this. I'd love to hear it, in time. You're right, that bowl has been sitting there a long time. On Sunday it looked up at me and said, "Hey, want to know what I really am?"

  3. Kyle, this little gem is so utterly beautiful I must have your permission to carve a song out of it, make some changes (as necessary) for the musical sake of it, give proper due and credit for the inspiration, and try try try for some simplicity of music to accompany, to hold or press gently in the background, so that the soft stones and gently cracks might shine through.Some things are worth waiting for. How long has that bowl been sitting there whispering silence into you? Apparently as long as it took. Beautiful poem, my friend.:-)

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