The Stone Idol

It dwells, like stone, within—

A relic etched deep in the soul.
layer upon layer, carved and scarred.

A surface cracked,
a fragile crust,

perforated, thin-

bearing secrets, whispered, broken.

Yet beneath this brittle veil,
An essence lingers, untamed and untamed,
Bound in silence,
Breathing no word,
Voicing no plea.

It stands— an icon, a specter to all who pass.
Some, trembling, reach— 

but retreat, reverent and awed,

Others, consumed by longing,
Brush against the void,
Their fingertips grazing the edges of yearning,
Yet never closing the distance.

In the sanctum of my heart,
a pulse captive, stifled,
weighted with echoes of what was,

yearning yet subdued-

a muted, ceaseless witness
to its own faint existence.

No sun nor moon,
No star’s distant glow, 

no searing heat, nor frost's cold bite,
nor rain's tender caress-

None can stir its silence. 

All, lost to the silence of this heart,

In its stillness, it finds grace.

Detached from all,

a breath unmoving, unseen,
free and unshackled from time’s claim,

rooted in my soul.

A stone-like essence, 

caught between
being and the void.

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