The mason carved stone into the likeness of rope: twisted, gathered, and held in place. Something made for movement and strain was fixed here in silence, woven into the fabric of the cathedral.

Centuries have added their own markings. Lichen settles into the grooves, weather darkens the surface, and time deepens every twist. The carving has endured, not untouched, but still recognisable.

Perhaps faith is like that: not free from wear, but strengthened through what it bears. What seems fixed may still carry the memory of movement, tension, and the hands that first shaped it.