TIRED STONES

we drag them along
our stones
we elaborate grand designs for them
quarry them from the rockface
cut them to size
hoist them up the hill
up that steep steep incline
ah we suffer for our stones
we push
we pull
we pant
wipe the sweat from our brows
curse the blisters and callouses on our hands
and sometimes we falter
lose heart
lack the strength to keep going
some of those stones fall inevitably by the wayside
the mountain is just too rocky or steep
the burden is just too much to bear
the sacrifice too great
our comrades desert us
and the stone becomes a tired stone
perhaps one day it will be retrieved
recovered and dusted off
for the same project
or another grand plan
or perhaps it will simply be left
to be weathered by the wind and rain
to be stumbled upon
by the inquisitive eyes
and wild imaginations
of future generations