What Breaks the Stone

The moss knows patience, green fingers pressing into granite's ancient seams, asking nothing of the year but time.

A root splits the sidewalk, soft wood harder than concrete, slower than any axe, the earth's own insistence.

In the cracks, seeds find their kingdom— a universe of small rebellions, water finding the smallest flaw, freezing, expanding, returning.

Nothing violent about it, just the ordinary magic of persistence wearing down the solid world.