Everything Eroded Away But That

"I think we crave animism. We miss it."

The last stone standing wonders
How it was whittled from bed
To shape a separate thing.
When it first stood free and clear,
Sculpture let loose from the rock,
A pillar among pillars,
Was it already itself?

And now, after so much wind,
Reduced, is it still itself?
Had any other stones cared?
Were any of them aware,
Spilled so far down that slope there?
Ever? The stone on the hill
Listens closely to the wind.