The Abbey Among Oak Trees

Time.

 

It has grown

these knarreled

and misshapen oaks.

 

It has ravaged

and swelled

these grey grey graveyards.

 

And it faded 

the once 

great abbey into

 

the ruins that

haunt this

broken, shattered faith

 

like the dusty

remains of

finely grated

mosaics

 

and after humanity’s

faint and

fading mark

disappears

into the growing

tendrils of

vines and

branches

 

nature’s immortal claim

will also

fade over

millennium-

 

leaving but only

the moon

and celestial

bodies

 

to watch over

this grand

grandfather clock

as

 

it ticks away

each remaining

breath to nothingness.

 

Time.

 

This poem is about: 
Our world

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