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