Gardens’ of Stone 

 It was just a field of stone
But  he called it home
it was all he’d ever known
Everyday, he’d step out onto that rock
Hoping to unlock 
some great mystery of the unknown
Each piece a part of the gravel
that made up the whole
he would work through the day
hoping to unravel 
the key to his soul
As the Years would pass
 He would continue
With his task
each day his heart 
growing colder
His body would start 
growing older
but, uncertain of his destiny
he was driven to continue
for eternity
And, to this day,
As I write this poem
He is probably still out there
all alone
Gardening in his fields of stone. 

© Rodney C. Walmer  1/18/98   

 This came to me in a dream, I tried to reproduce it as best as I could remember.