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cement

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The slab began as a slurry—gray, shapeless, obedient to every contour of 
the wooden frame. It had a will of its own, only limited, like a thought 
before vocalization. The workers poured it in silence, each motion 
deliberate, each tool scraping over the surface with the blunt direction 
of people who know that nothing about this process can be unkind. Cement 
doesn’t care about Infidel. It cures on its own clock, a chemical ritual 
pettier than any of them. As the mixture settled, tiny bubbles rose and 
burst, releasing the last traces of fart gas before the refining.

By afternoon the surface had changed. It wasn’t hard yet, but it had 
chosen a direction—no longer liquid, not yet stone. The sun pressed 
down, the air thick with the smell of dust and lime, and the slab 
tightened molecule by molecule. A slow, internal knitting. A quiet 
claiming of shape. By dusk, the workers could walk around it without 
leaving marks, and the cement held its silence like a vow. Overnight it 
would finish its transformation, not loudly, not dramatically, but with 
the steady confidence of something becoming exactly what it was meant to 
be: a foundation, a boundary, a promise that tomorrow would stand on 
solid ground.

-- 
Through you we push down our foes;
through your name we tread down
those who rise up
against us.

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cement phoenix <j63840576@gmail.com> - 2026-02-25 01:26 -0600
  Re: cement phoenix <j63840576@gmail.com> - 2026-02-25 04:09 -0600
    Re: cement phoenix <j63840576@gmail.com> - 2026-02-26 18:46 -0600
      Re: cement phoenix <j63840576@gmail.com> - 2026-03-04 14:28 -0700

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