During nearly every stroll into the outdoors, I come across stone walls.

Some stand firmly and well.
Others, due to time or maybe mischief lie scattered, fruitless.

They line up. Or intertwine.

And I wonder.

About their age and intention.
About their origins and justifications.

Some still seem to have a sense of purpose but most sit aimless. They are there and only simply

there.

It’s hard to build a stone wall, I would imagine. It takes great purpose and much dedication.

The builders sought distinction, separation. To retain or

quell.

These walls were created for reasons.

But now, all these days later, they meander, firmly and well.
Or scattered and fruitless.

Purposeful or aimless.

It makes me think of everything I have built.
How I spend my time.
What means something to me, even most dearly.

…………………… And then, what becomes of these?