A stone is something one can think it stays, forever. Sacrificial stones in Finland many times hold carved holes where people put grain or other things in hope for the better. Has it been for gods not to throw us worms, into misery and destruction or has it been for higher hopes, for love or affection.
Or possibly for sacrificing more: enemies lives or love or friendship or?
Once you have something on the stone it ends, dies, disappears. Birds eat the grain, licking the water from crevasses. Memory stays behind. Only deep, empty holes are there to witness that somebody has made an effort to have a better future. Empty holes witnessing that something has happened but cannot be told anymore. The sacrificial stone has seen a lot but would not reveal its secrets.
They are, after the days we pass away, they remain, silent.