Like broken shells upon the shore,
These ancient buildings lie
Strewn about the landscape.
Once proud walls are now humbled
By centuries of wind and rain.
A grassy tomb envelopes
The stone pathways
That have borne the footprints
Of countless generations.
And mischievous vines have crept
Onto crumbling balconies
Where dreamers young and old
Gazed longingly upon the night sky.
Shaped by hands
But by nature undone
These shrinking stones
Shall one day join
The ghosts that walk among them.
For like the fate of all things
Set against the current of ages,
They are slowly worn away
Under the ever-advancing hands of time
That all the while move forward
And yet strangely always come back
To where they began.
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