The Holy Rocks


The Holy Rocks By Maria Fokas

The rocks hidden in the sky –
They are not silent in my presence.
They stretch as far as the eye can see;
A reflection in the horizon:
An element of past rememberance.
A stir of wondrous light.
No strangers here–

As dusk sets in –
I can hear them,

The bells ring, in the empty light of warmth;

beneath my feet.

 

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