Melancholia of Stone
The lonely sentinel atop the tower can cry no tears for the lives she is a witness to. Everything that passes underneath her is registered in silence, joy to grief, every triumph and every loss. She hears their songs as they drift heavenwards, strains to catch whispered prayers. She feels everything, and nothing, for she is stone, immutable and eternal to their eyes, her own mortality drawn out and marked by the wind and rain, not the fleeting passage of seasons.
To her long gaze nothing of the lives she witnesses endures. The most heart-felt grief soon gives way to new smiles, the most fervent love fades and withers. Everything matters, so much, in one moment, but no moment endures. Only the stone endures, and it cannot grieve, and it cannot love. She can only watch, and wonder, at the life she can never have.