The walls are tumbling faster now
and I watch, hands empty and dry.
I hear wind and rock,
the grind and tear of ancient layers of wisdom.
When it falls I may look at it for a long time,
stare at the words that no longer exist,
the feelings that no longer are.
And turn and walk on.
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1 comment:
I like the beginning part as well. It does add to the poem.
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