Click below to listen to the narration:
the stones stood stark...a silent...weathered line...each one a story...etched by cruel design...rolled by the river...tossed by winter's rage...nature's slow sculptors...turning time's vast page...then human hands...with purpose light or crude...did stack them high...in fragile solitude...a balance sought...where none could truly hold...their silent narratives...to winds untold...a murder of crows...upon the blustery air...did circle low...with raucous...knowing stare...their glossy feathers...dark against the gray...reflected sorrows of a passing day...each caw a question...sharp and deeply felt...empathic bonds...where kindred spirits knelt...they spoke of hunger...loss...and bitter strife...the endless struggles of precarious life...below...a deer...with eyes both soft and deep...stood ever watchful...secrets it did keep...its slender form...a stillness in the wild...a gentle soul...by trials undefiled...it heard the stones...their ancient...whispered plea...and felt the anguish of the crow's decree...a shared suffering...woven in the air...a silent witness to the world's despair...the wind swept onward...through the branches bare...and carried burdens of the pain they share...the crows kept calling...a lamenting sound...as stories echoed on the hallowed ground...for in that landscape...stark and deeply drawn...lay common bonds...from dusk until the dawn...the deer...the crows...the stones in weary grace...reflected struggles of the human race...so listen closely...to the wind's soft sigh...to tales of suffering...as moments fly...for in the wild...where true compassion lies...the heart can open...and the spirit rise...and see the mirror...in the stone...the bird...the deer...a fragile balance...held against all fear...