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

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