You never actually stopped, dear. :o)

Hello said the climatologist to the stone
Did you know Leonardo?

Well yes the stone replied,
His block was chipped off me.

You don’t mean da Vinci

Why of course, it was only yesterday
I remember as if it was tomorrow
in your time frame anyway, i.e.
ahead of me not behind you,
if I understand your question.

By the way, what is your concern
with Leonardo, I mean, do you believe
what you read in the here and now?

Am I talking to a stone, you sound
contemporary, like right now, how?
Stones can’t speak, they only listen,
What was it I said, say it again! Wow
I said that, how now of me. Allow
me to continue. I have such a good
story to tell and you are the first to
ask about what I cannot tell you.

It is secrets that I have to show
You study climate, weather records
I am one of those, but I have never
heard or seen one of yours before.

Once in a while some fool with a pick
will hammer on me for a bit. That
Leonardo fellow you asked about—
He was one of those narcissistic bores
who wanted to make everything in
his own image, even when kings
gave him money for his work. He
didn’t know a thing about what
a stone might think. Nor did he care.

That is what I want to know
what he really meant by what he left
unsaid, as it were, by not saying it
he keeps curious minds from knowing
what it was he did not question. He
was an iconoclast and never said
a peep about misjudgements or so
we understand from back handed
comments we submit to inspection.

Better left unknown. Let me speak
which I cannot do, but you will.
Together we can tell a story only
the dead could confirm or spill
embarrassing details to expose us.
I am become your title, Until
the Stones Reclaim Their Pieces.

But I asked about Leonardo
what has that to do with the end
rhymes of overkill, fulfill and instill?

Be still impetuous child, speak
so I can do what I will, listen.
Until you know poetry, old
stones are but rocks in your path.
Begin. I know the way, but you
must voice the secrets to be told.

Where do I look, what do I read?
My mind is not in touch with

Touch, senses do not matter, the
eyes fool you into thinking see
Knowing is nothingness, hearing
is nothing less than being d on key.

It’s a shame that in the time that I read your work on SU, I was too angry (as a result of forces that induced my breakdown) to really appreciate it.

But rediscovering it is a joy. Thank-you.

Greets,

Marieke

Which is cool, I am really kinda good at them.

(inky)