Our Valley Poem by Saul Stone

At many times, i find myself stepping barefoot onto the hard, dry grass. god's breath sends a chill up my spine as my neck, my entire body burns.

It's a pleasant thought: are there stories to be found? Is there a reason for me to stay here? i am baking in this sun, but refuse to leave. I'll walk this road, that I have made, step on the stones that have stepped on me, until you come.

i'll listen to your thoughts, if you'll remember mine. In the dry night we will be silent, and the stars will stare back at us and we will say, 'we have a reason.'