In the quiet cradle of ancient earth,

Where time weaves tales of silent mirth,

Rocks stand steadfast, weathered and wise,

Guardians of secrets beneath endless skies.

From the shimmering quartz that catches the light,

To basalt’s dark embrace in the still of the night,

Each grain tells a story, each fissure a song,

A symphony of silence where ages belong.

Moss drapes like velvet on granite so grand,

While rivers carve paths with a patient hand.

They tumble and dance, in laughter they flow,

A timeless ballet where only stones know.

Mountains rise boldly, their peaks kiss the clouds,

Veiled in the mist, wrapped in nature’s shrouds.

With valleys below, where wildflowers bloom,

In the heart of the rock, life finds room.

Oh, to wander the trails where the boulders recline,

To feel their cool touch, a whisper divine.

For in every crevice, in each rugged form,

Lies the beauty of strength, the heart of the storm.

So let us be like rocks, steadfast and true,

Rooted in moments, in all that we do.

In the dance of existence, let’s stand firm and bold,

For we are the stories, the memories told.