soft and shaped by the ocean
smoothed by time
the relentless movement of sand and water 
exposing swirls, 
ideas the Earth’s crust had a long time ago
circles reminiscent of a water surface 
after the disturbance of a thrown rock

layers of color
that yield potential for pigment
the drill is the artist and my fingers its canvas
the Earth speaks to me
in splatters of stone milk
and colors hidden in their cores

colors that will remember the places 
where the stones caught my eye
their origin preserved in a necklace

there are always breakages
let me break them even more 
into fine powdered pigments

when the work is done
and the stones are strung on a leather cord
to be displayed on people’s chests
never forgotten, never lost
to the process that turns everything into dust eventually
back she goes into her cave
I will leave the splatters for next time

dream up some dreams for me, will you? 
Let me be your canvas again soon!