The Silent Weaving of the Stone

In the mute heart of every ancient stone,
where time is a river that moves so slow,
an invisible weaving grows complex and bright,
of a cosmic patience, forever strong.

Crystals slumber, yet they softly sigh,
changing borders with a soundless grace,
fibers of inner light, quiet thought’s trace,
redrawing profiles with endless embrace.

Beneath the rugged skin, the soul of stone
keeps secrets that no mortal ear can know,
each stratum is a rite, a whole design,
of an epic saga, silently entwined.