This old soul of mine

Feels like an ancient ruin

a monument to those who created it, those forces we call

Leaders, Patrons, Architects, and Laborers. Some of them craved influence, prestige, an icon—

some sought to preserve their glory through the ages, and some felt a sense of duty.

Over the course of time, adorned with the changing art of the ages,

inhabited and visited by transient souls who’ve left their marks,

their echos absorbed into its walls—these have contributed to its character.

But it was built stone by stone, through various means and as a result of varied motivation.

It is then left to come into its own, to interact with the local landscape,

to weather storms and fair weather.

Subject to erosion and decay, there comes a moment in its history

when it’s lost most of the memories of its former splendor.

Still standing,

still venerated,

it is confused about its purpose and uncertain of its own foundation…

it feels, increasingly, the temptation to succumb to the elements

the wind, the rain—they’ve been consuming it as their own.

Sometimes, it longs for final disintegration, no longer certain it has the will,

nor the strength,

to prevent its own

demise.

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Assistant Editor: Jess Sheppard/Editor: Renée Picard

Photo: Wikimedia