These days are counted by the lack stones
Neither pebble or boulder you cannot hold nor throw
With each new day comes new breath- the sweet air of time
Tasteless not bitter but ripe for the picking
Behind me lay piles stacked with great numbers,
For the recent days more than those before
My shadow holds less as we are encumbered not
The darkness we cast faded, withdrawn to the past
The last stones I will never miss or mourn
For they are but the damage is done, the scars remain
Down this path I travel to the end I seek
If I am to reach my destination in time
The stones I still carry mustn’t be the stones I keep.
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