Ruins: a poem
You stand upon the broken wall of a ruined castle.
Having traveled for years to find this place you’re finally here.
As you look over the old stones
you see the soldiers clad in armor raising their
bastard swords charging at their so called enemies.
When you touch the cracked walls as you walk by
you feel the power and strength these old ruins still hold.
You enter one of the rooms with a dust covered bed.
Spider webs have invaded this place where human touch once lived.
In your mind the beautiful room of satin and wood is clear.
You even smell the smoke from a burning fireplace
that died out centuries ago.
You come across a large room, the Great Hall,
held for long dead kings and queens.
The chatter of lost ghosts hint in the space and
you the festivals that were held.
You hear the faded music of flutes and violins floating through the air.
You see men in their best clothes and women in cotton gowns.
Children run and play games that are now forgotten.
You even taste a hint of the wines they drank long ago.
You wish to live among these people, even if you are centuries apart.
You continue to the weed-infested courtyard.
Thick gray clouds overhead swirl and pulse
with the old magic of the winds and rain.
The courtyard was a lush and vibrant garden once.
Now the grass touches your waist with the soft caresses of passing ghosts.
Some of the flowers died and withered, but some still thrive.
Thick long vines hug the walls as if to protect their home from the elements,
unknowingly cracking the solid stone walls further.
Thunder roars like the fierce lion woven into the frayed flag.
Lightning cracks like the light reflected of a soldier’s upraised sword,
momentary blinding you.
The rain starts to fall to feed the ever growing grass and swollen vines.
You make for cover back in the safety of the damaged battlements.
There is no longer a roof on many of the crumbling towers
but the walkways on top of the walls are still intact.
The ceiling above you has given way and is now rubble at your feet.
You can see the arrow slits at the second floor
and wonder how many arrows flew through those windows to attacking armies.
You go deeper into the castle, and deeper into your ancient thoughts.