My library of short stories

Shortstory5

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**The Stone of Life**

In hollow depths where shadows creep,
Lies a stone, entombed in sleep.
Lifeless, cold, in silence bound,
It bears no voice, emits no sound.

Forgotten by rivers, lost to air,
It feels no warmth, no love, no care.
Heavy with weight, unmoved by plea,
A prisoner of time's vast sea.

It bears the scars of ages past,
Each line a memory, worn yet vast.
Veins of stone like fossilized flame,
Trace silent burdens, whispers of shame.

Is this all life can offer, still?
An empty shell, a hollowed will?
The stars above may rise, may fall,
But this stone feels nothing, nothing at all.

Once, it dreamed, or so it seems-
A shadowed echo, half-formed dreams.
A distant flicker, dim and cold,
Of once-known light in darkness rolled.

Yet in its heart, where silence reigns,
A tremor stirs, like whispered pains.
A crack appears, so faint, so slight-
A fragile herald, breaking night.

Through ancient seams, a soft vibration,
Hints of warmth, a slow sensation.
The stone, long silent, stirs with sound,
A pulse of life beneath the ground.

From that crack, so small, so slight,
A fragile sprout seeks tender light.
Its roots thread through the stone's deep veins,
In search of warmth to break its chains.

It stretches forth, soft as breath,
Defying stillness, mocking death.
Its tender green in silence spreads,
Where cold once ruled and shadow fed.

In newfound awe, the stone perceives
The ancient scars it thought deceived.
Each line, each crack, each weathered seam
Now hums with life-a buried dream.

A seed of light within its core,
Buried beneath the years it bore.
It never thought it could be freed,
Yet from its depths, it grows a seed.

The stars above, in cosmic drift,
Observe the stone, now moved, now swift.
No longer bound by endless night,
It feels the warmth, it feels the light.

Life, it seems, is not despair;
Even stone can learn to care.
In every scar, in every line,
A spark of wonder dares to shine.

Through cracks that marred its once-hard face,
It senses now a tender grace.
Roots dig deep, unbound, unscarred-
Life finds a way, despite, unmarred.

The scars that marked its ancient grief
Now soften to a quiet belief-
That even stone, so cold, so true,
Can learn to break, to bend, renew.

And from those wounds, both deep and old,
A story blooms, both rare and bold.
For in each crack, where darkness lay,
A world of light begins to play.

No longer numb to stars above,
The stone dares feel, to hope, to love.
Its heart, once still, now pulses bright-
A rhythm learned from death to life.

It bears its weight, yet feels its worth-
A hardened soul, returned to birth.
And through the scars, the shadows past,
It knows: even stone can yield at last.

In every mark, a history sown,
A truth unveiled, a life regrown.
For life, in stone and flesh, will flow-
In cracks, in scars, the light will grow.

So in its depths, it dares to dream,
Beneath the stars' eternal gleam-
No longer bound by ancient night,
It breathes, it blooms, it seeks the light.

For even stone, both scarred and true,
Can break, can heal, can rise anew.