A simple thing
Stone tears are never wasted but are always broken. A sinking pebble, floating downward into the darkness of the open sea. Once part of a larger whole, a mountain that pierced the sky so high. Now, suddenly falling downward, pasts the creatures that seek to hide. From the stability of a powerful wall, to being pushed and pulled by the oceans currents. A tiny stone, older than christian gods, now buried under swishing sand. As the years go by and the earth stretches and yawns, the pebble spins deeper into the ocean floor. Rather pointlessly between salt and sand. No purpose to fortify, or bear weight, rather weightless in the deepest parts of the sea.
The weightless pebble now decades under sand, polished and warped by the movements of time. Pieces of even its small tiny being now missing from the effects of tension and erosion. A feeling of becoming nothing of matter, just more dust in the forever sand. All its edges torn away, its strength taken from it, and soon time would make it fade entirely.
Yet, as the time came, and the pebble spun under the weight of the sand one last time. It felt a warmth, something that It hadn't felt since the years of lava. It was the mothers heart, a deep fire in the core of all that is, and somehow the pebble or whatever was left had made it all the way back home. Not on top of some mountains, not a part of a beautiful peak, but now a seamless fit into the crust of the earth. The very force that moves the lands above, the foundation of all that is. Backed by the fires of their mother. Backed by the power of their core.