Depth of a Stone

Something that popped out one evening at my coffee table.

Like ephemeral flecks of cloud
suspended in clearest water
the truth lies within.
A stone tells no lies.
Banded ripples distort the surface
clashing colors slipping along
outlining fractures, faults, and failures
with a gleaming crystalline core.
Broken down: silicon, oxygen, iron
the elements combined as if asleep.
Solidified. Preserved. Entombed...
for all to observe and judge.
Leaves of manganese and veins of silver
decorate it's formal face.
Polished. Reflective. Glistening.
What is the depth of a stone?

Author's Note

I don't usually write non-rhyming poetry. Is this one any good?