In the last month of the year, when the river didn't return, a congregation of stones patiently
waited for the Great Mother to appear with her maidens in their mineral skirts.

There are also "rain stones," with shamans eager to raise their spirits again,
peopling the sky, and the river's dry bed with the feathers of migrating birds.

A few years ago, looking through a notch in the hills at a glittering sea, a man in a yellow hat
pointed at the lapis lazuli sky and said, Many people will fly today, ascending with the weight
of their own gravity.

Joel assures his readers that a wonderful time will come
when your old men shall dream dreams, and your young
men shall see visions.