A fable in my palm

In one of my journeys
into an antique land ,
I found a stone ,
which didn't really seem
to be interesting
at a first glance .
I don't know why I picked it up ,
held it in my hand , in the middle of my palm ,
with my gaze
travelling beyond known realms .
A short spell of dizziness ,
felt as though
someone was holding and opening
the palm that held the stone .
The stone began to turn slowly
in the softness of my palm ,
parts of it melted
in the warmth of my hand ,
the part liquid -solid spaces
arranged , rearranged
till it magically
became a poem ,
an enchanting ,
never ending poem ,
in a language
totally unknown ,
yet tugging at my heart
and filling it ,
overflowing it
with a yearning unknown ,
unheard and unseen ,
leaving me with no option
but to watch it
turn and turn
slowly
in the warmth
of my palm .

Akash