How is this poem doing?

Question

Excavation

I couldn’t help imagine the future of the world

as I pined over the stone;

how language had grown,

its story marred by a slow and steady drift

of water and wind.

I imagined the remains of us,

the next big die out.

Like mammoths left

fuel to flow the earth,

we'll leave our shelters from the weather;

as confusions hibernate in dust,

on tables of rust, dimly lit screens flickering through webs

and vines--

our songs, passing through chimes,

in orchards, rain micro chips and petals.

As the nectar of technology still moves through filaments,

for the newly emerging,

the world comes with instructions-

blueprints blowing in the afternoon breeze,

and our memory,

escaping the wind that drags our dust through steel beams.

And safety vaults will hide away in homes

like treasures,

filled with recoveries, reprieves

and un-confided love.

We called it faith-

to them, something scrawled and tethered to time.

Answer 1

work on your structure, i dont care for it to be honest. i enjoy the imagery though.  

Answer 2

This has the makings of a fine read but there are some issues with imagery that jar at the moment.(For me)

Why pine over a stone?

How can language be eroded by wind and water?

Fuel to flow the earth - I don't understand what this is meant to say.

One or two other parts later on are a bit vague,  I am struggling to get a direction, a flow. I like the images a lot but am finding it quite hard work although with re-reading it hangs together better and more of a feel comes through for a desolate landscape, abandoned, with the wind blowing through.

Keep it coming, though.