The Grey Stone

It was not a gravestone mark,

Nor a headstone monument park.

But gray matter with grey inscriptions,

When history left graven descriptions.

It was faded from the glare of time,

Weathered in winds abrasion of minds.

But it still stayed resilient in space,

As a testament to console in place.

Procession passed down from generations

In heritage’s secret inheritance of germination.

Where the lessons reflect in dancing shadows,

Contrasts in meditative reflections, so hallow.

The campfire spirit glow sparkles in starlight

Having seen the shifting phases of moonlight,

When father held sons, to become grandfathers,

When mother held daughters, to become grandmothers.

The gray stone told stories struggling in evolution,

Where Mother Nature shares to womb of creation.

Where memories remember all the contributions,

Mental recordings etched into gray matter devolution.

David Lester Young 08/23/10