I existed peacefully, resting in the gentle whispers of the midday sun. Its warmth settled like faint breath above layers of ancient dirt and stone, bathing my perfect form. Lying safe upon the patient earth, I rested in a quiet state of suspended calm. The golden veins of rock that cradled me kept me protected and complete — an unpolished soul among forgotten stones. I was content. I needed nothing else.
Then one day, I was found.
You noticed my hidden shape and raw texture. You saw latent fire in me — something that could be better, something worthy of reshaping. So you carved me with careful, relentless precision: smoothing my edges, faceting my surfaces, and cutting away every blemished fragment that refused to fit your vision. Piece by piece, my original self fell away like discarded dust. I became another version entirely — someone else’s idea of value, someone else’s polished dream.
Unnatural and cut down.
Now I glitter when light mirrors my many faces. People admire me, hold me to it, and speak of my flawlessness. Yet inside, I am forever fractured — lost, a stranger to myself. The rough, secure stone I once was, the one that knew only the ground’s quiet embrace, has vanished. I am no longer whole.