Stories Bones Tell - The Palimpsest

Our city had once spread
Its wings across
The four corners of the world
Strong in its pride

Many names it had assumed
Republic, empire, state
All of those now forgotten
As well as our fate

Time has no pity for the living
Be they petty or great
Time disregards our social orders
All will become dust

Our grand civilization
Had slowly failed
Collapsing on itself
Eroding outward

Once holy sanctuaries
Would welcome
Wild beasts and wretched lowlives
In their sacred halls

We would become but ghosts
An echo of age past
The wasteland would prevail
Above our arid grave

We would slowly fade away
Engulfed by searing sands
Our memories erased
Our bones bleached by the sun

Then others would arrive
To build on our remains
Until the desert would
In turn reclaim their names

This cycle would repeat
Time and time again
But nothing would be learned
Upon this ageless path

Written by:
A E

Publisher:
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