By Dr. Agonson
They stood like wayward souls waiting for the wind to blow or the sun to shine, they waited to fade away. I would have held on for them, to them, but they waited to fade from me, leave me the stone I was. The sun would rise and their shadows would be found no more on this plane. Here I would stay for anyone to find me. There are better than me, and I suppose worse. I just want to hear music again and sing, but the dirge is played and brings no life, no joy. Who will raise another voice? I have no breath.
A stone cannot cry nor lament. What am I? My friends are gone and I cannot follow. I have been stuck always here, but they can come no more. Sing softly for me a lullaby that I may sleep a thousand years and forget it all as I forget a dream. Blast a trumpet and drown my mind in the raging cries of passion that I may be swept away. But this stone heart will not move for me. Is there no life here? No little breath that could still now follow my joys from here as a hound would a criminal? To leave myself and fly through the air and be free.