The Turning Stones
i hold three magic rocks in my hand
rolling them over and over and over
their edges whisper secrets soft and grand
pulling me under like a silver river
the world i know dissolves in mist
each turn a door, each touch a key
the winds hum low, the stars persist
in songs of fate and mystery
shadows stretch and shimmer bright
golden echoes kiss the sky
i step beyond the chains of sight
where dream and waking intertwine
mountains bow and waters rise
whispers weave through drifting light
the rocks still spin beneath my palm
pulling me home through endless night
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