Into the stones

The dusty road beneath me

Led me on

Like a pre-set path

All the history

All the old stories to be told

Surrounded me

In the brick walls

The forgotten stones

The faces dead and gone to pass

What do they say?

What have they seen in time?

The brick colored faces on the wall and with a flash

History was and is being made and has been made

As it was always to be

Each second

Each minute

Each hour

Each day

History is etched into the stones

Slowly writing the pages of a book that is thick and leather bound

Just as my pages are being written so are these words on this very page