Blistered stones reflect
Facades of older people in a child,
Then with one breath,
Like a dandelion,
They fly to every corner of the earth.
So warm to touch,
Yet frozen in time,
And sought by many
For the precious unctions of their blood,
A blood not the red of mortal men,
But golden of a heavenly vein,
That does betray their origins.
Gaze upon the stones to clear your head,
For tears will course down your face,
Dissolving every evil from your heart,
But cast the stones
And you will find a heavy soul,
And spirit caught in chains of bracken,
Tighter as you writhe.
So treat with care this gift to all,
For one misuse
Can jeopardise our traits,
And toss our bodies down,
Deep into the furnace.