A handfull of sand to the wind, grains showed me the story of friends and to the earth they did recind. I walked along a gravel bed, the many sounds of families took residence within my head. I chose a stone at the waters edge, and felt its story of battering and drowning in the waters cage. A boulder strong cut my finger, So I put my hand to my mouth the salt of the rock did linger. As I approached the cliffs that slept, I smelled the story of their ages and from within their cracks they wept.