The One Stone
It lay atop the windswept hill
the one last haunt of mystic rune
now scribed beneath the winter chill
in granite stone, the words deep hewn.
Enchanted matrix burning bright
the monolithic stone stands tall
and glows with mystic magic’s light
while hope remains this one shan’t fall.
At times misplaced or even wrong,
it’s faith that helps us carry on,
not tall nor great the one stands strong,
if stone, our hearts, it’s never gone.
From grains of sand are mountains grown
as mystic hope is our One Stone.
11/3/2017
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