and questions in my head.
My eyes are tired,
but I still look
at this stone for answers.
Nothing is quite right
at this hour of fatigue
and restlessness.
What am I to do?
Or rather, what am I?
How deep is this well?
What waters can I draw up
from its dark depths?
Indeed, what am I to do?
This mute red sandstone,
stolen from beneath a cliff,
from the bank of a river,
reminds me of where I am,
but nothing more
than what I can imagine
as I sit with it tonight.
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