Moss and Stone

Rain reads the stone's biography in green whispers, letter by letter. A century of stillness writes itself in soft equations.

The moss asks no permission, arrives like breath we didn't know we held. It settles in the gaps where time collects like dust.

Below the soil's dark grammar, roots spell out their own language— a conversation with water older than any word we know.

Each morning brings a verdict: the stone grows lighter as it learns to carry the weight of all this becoming.