Listening Stone - Tyrone Ferguson

It does not speak—
it receives.
Its hollows are tuned for echoes,
each curve a chamber of memory,
each silence a held breath.
It does not answer.
It waits.
It gathers the weight of wind,
the hush of footfall,
the murmur of moss growing.
To stand before it
is to be asked
to listen
with more than ears—
to feel the shape of stillness
pressing into the bones.