A stone, remote, cold, brought from another world - an environment of mountainous beauty, sitting now on an asphalt road in downtown Tempe.
How did it get there?
Was the journey long and tortuous, or easy and fun?
It's silence is profound as it steadily sits, unrecognized for what it is - a piece of history - a part of a long ago mountain.
It is now thought of as merely a stone, having been separated from it's counterpart.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem