Photographic Poetry – “A Short Story on the Ravages of Time”

The gnarled ravages of time have worked their foul and terrifying magic, most insidiously thorough in their deconstructing work

Where once were Keeps and Bastions tall and fiercely bright now meekly stand defiant stones in dying rest, poor serfs of time, that cruel exacting lord

I long have lain upon this Rock, though once I lived upon the peak of warm, inviting halls, where members of humanity brought worship to their God above, where Kings and Monarchs once ruled o’er all the green, pastoral lands near round about, where now a recollection floats in time and space, remembering the golden days of mirthful joy gone softly, slowly by

And still that cold, unfeeling lord is marching on with I myself a slave unto its cruel and hateful work

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