In the absence of formwork, A beauty rises, unbidden. Gravel, sand, clay— A trinity of dust and stone. Pounded down, layer by layer, Earth surrendering to force, Shaped not by hands But by the weight of the world itself. A rugged edge, a broken tooth, A fissure filled with shadow, A murmur of ochre, A vein of rust, an ember of gold. The wall sings…