As the crumbling, high walls attest – with their braids of ivy & webs…

Power reigned here once…among the peasants & the plebs.


The monuments all broken… human folly at its best.

Who can say what they stood for – these stones at rest.


Perhaps the stones spoke sense – once, perhaps they told the time…

The meanings lost in comments of the lauded & sublime.


Objection to its merits, rejection of the past.

Time in all its glory means that man-made never lasts.


Underneath the ruin, eternal nature does prevail.

This ruin that you see, will live to tell a tale.


© The Secret Poetess, February 2017