Why is it that, out
of the limitless
choices, we carry
home from the
beach a single
stone?

'ARTICLES OF
FATITH' are found
given, fought for,
hoarded and
cherished.

With time they are
worn from use,
torn, raw around
the edges. We
impose our beliefs
and fears on each
- chance smell,
an object held, a
tone overheard.

Often they are
silent.

They are the marks
we leave in
passing.