come to meet me,
gatherers of rocks,
leave your north west beaches
and asiatic mountains.
come to meet me,
down from the pink hills of savona,
and across the albertan prairies.

come to meet me,
gatherers of rocks,
empty your pockets and rucksacks,
spill out your stories written with stones,
let me hold the places you've seen
feel the triumphs of your life,
yawn at so many whimsical afternoons
in their cool smooth curves
and jagged dusty crags.

come to meet me,
gatherers of rocks,
turn each over with a lover's care,
admire their shape and each subtle hue,
and then release your weighty prisoners
like so many secrets,
they will slip from your fingers
like glorified grains of sand.

come to meet me,
gatherers of rocks,
for in truth, they are numb and ancient
and will exist as such long after you
and your memories have gone.
come to meet me,
release-unload-let go,
they don't belong to you.