simonhlilly

GIVEN TIME

Given time

All the stones return.

.

Companionship, the soft moss

That greens broken voices.

.

We are accustomed to abandonment

Where roads turn back

Leaving the high hills to themselves.

.

We are accustomed to the tides

Of disdain from those

Who cannot see our wealth.

.

We breathe free in cloud and soft rains,

In the glance of sun,

In the silent press of snow.

.

What we lack

Has been given away freely.

Nothing of worth

Has been lost.

.

From the darkening skies

A single feather falls.

The stones are silent.