“Look at this!” She said grabbing a rock out of the riverbed.   My mouth drops open/ I sing its praises.   She finds another one. And another.   One black. One red. One smooth.   Each rock is special, Each rock must be worshipped…

All the colors … All the pain … And the psychedelic warms; my image grows clearer … Oh glory, I am starting too see … me! The unknown artist found me … amongst the mess; the road less … the hidden woman; the death of…