Unmoved.

Within a worn trail
rests a stone—
ordinary,
one among many.

A foot catches.
The body turns.
Heat and
Pain.

The traveler rises
slowly,
checks the ground,
then the sky.
No witness,
neither to comfort
nor to jeer.

The journey continues—
shortened stride,
uneven rhythm.
Injury does nothing
to abbreviate distance.

The stone
keeps its place.
It receives no weight,
learns nothing,
remembers nothing.

Seeing,
and never saying—

unmoved.