Wood Flow Stone

 

Someone came down to the river to pile stones, and the stones, already dense with stories of fire, took on more meaning, became both doorway and messenger. Someone saw them at the edge of a furious river and was still for a very long time, listening to the stones’ old stories. Someone stood drinking in all the light and all the water and changed the river and accepted the change that came in return. Someone let go and moved downstream, like something gone, or something coming. Someone rested by the water awhile and when someone else came, told their own stories of fire in the dark and the light.

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