Stone and Spider
The granite tells what time forgot—
A myth preserved, a sacred spot.
The culture vanished, yet the stone
Still chants its verse in undertone.
What fades in name may root in ground—
The soul leaves echoes where it’s found.
The web is spun in early light,
Each bead aglow with dew so slight.
A silent art, precise and wide—
Creation’s hand in sacred stride.
No sculptor carved with greater care
Than spider’s lace hung in the air.
