Do Stones Feel?Do stones feel?Do they love their life?Or does their patience drown out everything else?When I walk on the beach I gather a fewwhite ones, dark ones, the multiple colors.Don’t worry, I say, I’ll bring you back, and I do.Is the tree as it rises delighted with its manybranches,each one like a poem?Are the clouds glad to unburden their bundles of rain?Most of the world says no, no, it’s not possible.I refuse to think to such a conclusion.Too terrible it would be, to be wrong.



