The Stones of Stillness
In the hush of twilight’s breath,
Where shadows stretch and whisper death,
Lie stones that do not stir or sigh,
Beneath the ever-watching sky.
They do not speak, they do not dream,
No pulse, no song, no silver gleam—
Yet in their silence, deep and wide,
A thousand secrets softly bide.
Moss clings like memory to their face,
Time gathers there, a patient trace.
Footsteps pass, and seasons fold,
But still they keep their silent hold.
The storm may shout, the river flee,
The wind may bend the tallest tree—
But they remain, through fire and frost,
Anchors of all that time has lost.
Oh, stones of stillness, cold and true,
What quiet strength resides in you?
You teach the hearts that rush and roam
The shape, the weight, the truth of home.
No crown of gold, no throne of grace,
Yet kings and ghosts both seek your place—
For in your hush, the soul may find
A steadiness to still the mind.
Thank-you for reading.
Much Love and light,
Brenda Marie
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