Stone Spirit

Who has shaped this graceful stone

Whose random curves provide a throne 

Within whose warm embracing chair

Receiving sun and wind and air

Enjoying all of nature's best,

I, a wandering spirit, rest.

The wind a sculptor's blade has blown

Has carved and cut and worked and honed

And time has given it the force 

To mold and guide the sand stone's course

And patiently the soft clean knife

Of ice and water has shaped its life.

Who knows what life has passed this way

What wonders could the sandstone say

If word sounds were within its skill

Of life and time and nature's will

The passing history its seen

The tide of time that's come and been.

Stone memories, feelings, spirit, past,

Indelibly impressed and cast 

A silent, cryptic, cosmic tale

Upon a stone whose time and scale

Dwarf my humanity.

With wind and ice in symphony,

Create a place of harmony,

Which mystically puts me to its test

When I, a wandering spirit, rest.

About this: I composed this while sitting among the hoodoos at Writing-on-Stone, Milk River, Alberta

 © Philip Knight 2018