On Georgia and Sequential Rotations of Spring

i am sad to think that piling stones means many things, both high and wide. for i have been collecting them in every place and pocketing the ones i like. and then i think, where are my hands to go but to my eyes? i have come to know the still images, mutual, in our minds are not the same. then we shared only time. for piling stones means many things both flat and tall. for i have been moving up as you have been long. and then i think which is better to know or watch or be blind and behold? for the place from which we came was nearly the same mold. then we ration time and are architects who will never see eye to eye though the desk was still the same. but, we all live in an anyhow town with up so many going as many falling down. then it is just a matter of how one did arrange. their piling stones of many things.