iolite, wayfinder’s stone

 

Blue as twilight,

a shard of horizon in stone.

 

Vikings held it to the sun,

a lens against indifference.

 

The sea was a silence without measure,

clouds erased the line of travel.

Yet in the fracture of crystal,

direction flickered—

not myth, but light bent into clarity.

 

No consolations,

no gentle voice.

Only the mineral fact:

a geometry that cuts through haze,

a reminder that forward exists.

 

 

 

 

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