Crumbling

Rubble all around.

Wind tipped a proper, neat, pile of broken pieces over. Now one by one, faster and faster, every jagged edge tumbles down the infinite mountain.

Maybe there is sweetness in the valley. Healing and nourishment and a gentile kind of breeze. Just enough to dust residue off the boulders, the pebbles, the in-between stones too.

Lush green and flora swallow the wreckage as it settles. Days wash over, the rain pours again and again. The stones begin to smooth.

What seems like a millennia later, they morph into one. Left to be discovered, only seams. Like gold inlay of a once shattered harvest tray. Noticeable evidence of gaps that once were, they no longer exist.

Nothing can break them apart anymore.

Together as one, a new foundation.