Flint.

 I stoop to pick up a piece of polished flint
 A piece of sedimentary cryptocrystalline, a form of the mineral quartz

Smudge red and orange,

A galaxy reflected on its surface.

Why this fragment among billions I do not know;

It seemed to choose me rather than me it,

Calling through a million years of upheaval and change.

It fitted into my palm snugly as if a missing part of me,

A homecoming spanning epochs.

So smooth to the touch like silk, yet harder than iron

It pinned me to the spot, rooted me to earth

As if I had sprouted roots like a mighty oak tree;

I heard the stone song reverberate through the heavens

Bringing life into existence,

The song of making weaving through ancient tunnels

Stirring the darkness to life like a flame in the wilderness.

I knew then we couldn’t be parted –

At least for a short time.