AMO: adapted from an email I won't send

She is the ore to a metal which I have not been able to recognize yet, but which may some day provide the key structural element to the construction of a city I am fated to build, or perhaps to a city Whose remains I will be the first to uncover in thousands of years. Maybe I will neither build nor discover a city (that city), I will just travel through one, or settle in one, or assist in the burning of one entirely different city that has no relation to the metallurgy of her spirit or the mining of her language. Of course the stones will always be there, because stones are always there, and they will be compressed and churned around the crust of the earth and maybe cracked and dug up by other people whose voices I may never hear. The point is that she is there and she can be dreamed to be, in some sense, eternal, even though stones, too, can flake away to dust, get carried on a wave, or melted to oblivion in the center of the earth.