Your name is carved where the world cannot touch it.

Not in stone,

for stone crumbles,

nor in the bark of trees,

for they bend and break.

It is written in the dark water of me,

in the marrow’s quiet chambers,

where no fire can burn

and no hand can reach.

Even the gods would need to break me open

to find you,

and even then

they would see your name

glowing in the ruin.