Geode

In quiet hills where time has slept,
A stone lies closed, a secret kept.
Its rough exterior, grey and cold,
Holds a heart of crystal, bright and bold.

When split apart, the world unveils
A glittering cave where light prevails.
Amethyst veins, and quartzine gleam,
A miniature universe, a dream.

Nature’s own geode, a hidden art,
Where patience crafts a beating heart.
So cherish the modest, dull façade,
For within lies splendour—never flawed.