The roots don't fly away. They allow themselves to be observed. Immobile. They take energy from the earth. They capture the sunlight to turn it into a seed, a bud, a plant. So does gold. It winds itself around matter. It caresses it, climb up it and embraces it. The stern rises towards the top to sculpture the stone into a precise shape which is bound to last for ever.
We seem we can see the light and strong roots while they linger. They are like little fingers that weave their thread tirelessly to make a cradle for the gems.

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