Atop stones aspiring are sometimes known to be small animals, rodents, clingers living on dew and blown-by seeds, occasional bugs. The living life is dropped by birds, perhaps, and then, for life, live the wretched in exile from the ground so far away, the reaching of which ever again would be death. But there are never found there within the round the bones of the dead. One must assume, then, that God in His infinite mercy reaches down and scoops them up and takes them straight to Heaven. I believe this to be true.
It is very difficult to believe much else. We stand below, wondering. Listening. Hearing the wind, "les sourdes cogitations de pierres."