Stone, the Heart

I. Obsidian

Obsidian, the black, cold, shining stone, tells the tale of years in burning stone, where lava flowed and scorched and maimed, it's shine is now a faceless pain.

The stone shows nothing, surface smoothed, while rigid, cold, and now subdued; the stone is nothing more and nothing less, than solid stone, in jagged flesh.

Obsidian, the heart, so black as pitch, is lost forever inside it's niche.



II. Amethyst

Though still the same, and scorched and maimed, amethyst shows it's purple shame; For years of clarity and years of thought, once glassy quartz, is violet rock.

Against the lava the quartz was skewed, not twisted though, just slightly hued; The Amethyst tells of twisted mind, but blends right in with flower's pride.

Amethyst, the heart, so full of sin, is lost forever somewhere within.



III. Opal

The clear and conscience stone of thought, like brother quartz, it wonders on. Thinking hard through glassy gaze of watching stones and water's rush, the stone, it wonders, wonders on.

Streaming, rushing, cleaning some, the water cuts the opal numb; 'till hate and pride both wash away, the stone is clear, and clean, and fine.

Opal, the heart, with rock at naught, is lost forever within it's thought.