Dear Earth,

Today I stood before your bones—ancient, sunlit, monolithic.
You rose in silence, carved by time and wind,
your sandstone cathedral whispering of centuries
when the sky still remembered how to be untouched.

In the hush of Monument Valley,
I watched shadow and light pass over your skin
like memory—
ephemeral, yet etched in permanence.

You ask for nothing, yet give us everything.
Still, you bloom in drought,
glow at dawn,
and let the wind translate your patience into stone.

This is not just admiration—
it is reverence.
It is awe softened by guilt and gratitude.

With love,
—Cat Atom