Stonehenge

Pillars of labored sweat and stone foundation building. 

Pillars of conscience and determination; a satisfaction of sticking to it. 

I have walked underneath the stone henges before in 

all of their creation.

This young woman signs her name with her finger in the dust of 

Nature's ink at the entrance of these henges. 

These pillars of Contemporary Arts and history.

These pillars that serve no real shelter, but yet are so courteous 

as to have a sort of informal roof. 

Sometimes she walks underneath them with no 

thought at all.

Sometimes she looks at the chunk of stone and acknowledges the 

resemblance they have to building blocks, she wonders if it ever 

occurred that the sky had gotten tired of playing with the Stars and clouds 

as toys therefore creating these structures and their boredom. 

Acknowledges the hand that God had in these 

simple structures; she acknowledges the hand 

God had in her creation, putting two and two together 

she understands where the interception took place, 

aligning with her possible hand in this endeavor 

could be to simply put ‘ admire His handiwork’ 

and it's in all that surrounds it.

These pillars of stories, of voices

These pillars of hands, bodies, and lives 

These pillars of all the unknowns 

Pillars of known redacteds

These pillars that could hold her home 

These pillars that could hold the home of no one

Pictures of stone, of the world, of the creation of the one and only.

Pillars that serve as Nature's stance.