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.