I am a pillar of stone, smooth and tall, With no windows, doors, or seams at all. I stand in the desert, or deep in space, A silent giant from a hidden place. Ancient or modern, a mystery I bring, A shadow cast without saying a thing.

A Canadian place famed for a rush of gold. An old ad asked what you would do for one. A trove of records, rich with things once told.

I have no voice, yet I speak the truth of eras past. I have no mind, yet I hold the geometry of the stars. Kings desire me for my permanence, yet time slowly grinds me into dust.

Long before lighters lit the night, I helped people make warm firelight.

They can be used to make jewelry, to make your bath more pleasant or, apocryphally, to buy an island.