I was doing a little meditation on my stone collection this morning and decided to jot down some words and pictures:

Do the rocks I collect miss the beaches, deserts, rivers, forests I have taken them from? Do they miss the dry sun beating on them? The water smoothing out their edges? The rich earth seeping into their crevices?

Do they marvel at the novel chaos taking place inside my home as they sit with their cousins in glass jars on tall shelves? Wondering when they will feel intense sun and the wash of water again?

Soon. I tell them. Soon. Soon the chaos of humanity will dissolve into rubble and soon after that into the rich earth that fuels your green, gray, orange, brown, yellow, white and black bodies. Soon you will return home, but first, please witness the stories of love, of hate, of invention and intervention. Of beauty and madness. So that you can carry these stories back to the sun, water and earth and tell them the myths of how we tried.

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