Stone


A convening as of

a distance,


focusing just

there


where certain

stone

sits

in silence


as though beyond

all words


a frozen on a wheel

of time


it does not take

or

plunder


no soul by which

to paint

the golden

murmurs

of

the gods


only a being there

eon by

eon


a weathering,

grit & ice

wind riven

a slow eroding

of these

great

flanks


you touch such

roughened

fate


to begin a

knowing

of your

own

demise,


single branch

fracturing

along a

trunk

unspoken.

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