Poetic Journal Year 166 B.E.

166.82* Rosenstein

Rosenstein

How many stones did I breath to life;
how many stored and hoarded.
How many do you now take to scatter
with a blessing of deep rose thoughts
repeating my name written in gold
on deep rose stones.
Toss them then in a spring fed pool
or a fount of lava,
Know their worth as they return to earth,
a token of each day's breath.
Place one on a loved one's grave.
We spirits crave communion
long past our death.

© Kåre Enga [166.82] 2009-06-11