Skipping stones across the surface, of the water's glasslike figure. Making small circles on a trail behind, before disappearing into the greenish hues. Deep along the downward path, amongst the carp and crabs, past the bobbing aquatic fauna, all flowing in own uniqueness touching the depths. Deeper still, with fellow rocks - more corroded, some now silt and gravel. Ashes to ashes as nature intended. Roundly shaped stone, surrounded but alone looks upward at the fickle trail left behind, where energy to posses vigor still remained. Now lonely yet accompanied, in a silent deep. Where all to see has been seen and not to be seen again. So fleeting is life, once you find no more youthful strife. You sink into quiet recollection, among those who too lived life. We don't see ourselves here, no not stir within us regret or fear. To not think of our stories as lost work, ignored and not to remain.