Flint ridges once cradled the wheel's still eye by tusk paths through parting ice. Currents later drew those points seaward into hush. What fresh groove opens in quartz where bone beds now release their captured gleams?
“Flint ridges once cradled the wheel's still eye above mammoth trails. Rivers have since carried those first star marks into the sea's hush. What new groove awaits as lights slip their ancient bone beds?”