There once stood a stone hereabouts, carved in the shape of a man, a statue, that is. I wanted to see the face again. There was a quality to it. It seems to be gone, now. Odd, but statues do fall, I suppose.
I just wanted to see; I think I recognized the face in a man, a living soul, and I wanted to see.
A haunting thought, that ancient stones might live.
Was it not the statue of a god? Was it not loved? Loved, and forgotten. A dead people’s dead monument, and I thought I recognized the face.
Tale Told 