Vines – 7th traveller
Walk confined in shaded spaces
on the hottest days of summer through the weary neglected path.
Stopping, occasionally, caught in meticulous inspection
the visitor calmly thinks.
The hurried words and uncertain movements
changes under foot and on the skyline, extend their inevitable reach.
Creeping alterations make brothers of the past
lost beyond restoration, but never truly lost at all.
Neglected, yes, but to what purpose,
leaves the city, questioning doubt.
Hear voices mark unfinished future
show a face or pleasant smile, to disguise unknown intentions.
Stroll past living death together
or breath the atmosphere combined.
A monarch or an author gathers
harvests words and power close,
both pray on citizens desire
to feel a higher call or purpose
and sell their flags at the highest price.
The storm strikes fiercest at the centre, beyond the oldest and the new
it rips at what may be intended and presents us with a vision blurred.
Though it fall to us to wonder, sculpted fresh or rotten tree
know the things placed here tomorrow, will soon fade replaced in perpetuity.