Throwing the stone.

Stone that caressed so much,
My hand that is so blind
It's my arm that plays so much
With feeling alive.

Hand that I fire so much,
Taking the rudeness of land,
It is the life that plays so much
With taking off my arm.

Launch of my dreams,
Of my losses and passions.
Feeling of courage,
Of me or the stone?

I travel while observing that I am leaving,
I go while I watch that I walk away.
Now that I've launched it,
Who's gone
The stone or me?