Your
monuments, what do they mean?
Build
your stone high and shout your deity.
Hope
that the stone outlasts the age
Hold
tight to written, lawful piety
And
when the old roots wrack your faith
When
the cold moon bites and rags your mind
How
do you hold on to the bitter dregs?
How do you slip into your role assigned?
Old
shadows creep and stretch before your feet
Old
lanes and lines cross across your path
You’re
happy to bask in summer’s generous warmth
Are
you willing to take the lash of winter’s wrath?
Look
at the stone path, that’s where you tread,
Turning
away to turfed green paths that roam.
Is
it because your faith outlasts the stone?
Or
do you listen when your soul hears home?
