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