Rhythmic Poetry

A Ruin’s Lament

Perched astride the mighty cliff, I lie forlorn and old
Broken by our time’s relentless march, I’m ruined by the sea
The waves persist in crushing strains, the spray a pleasant plume
I’m dying on this lonely mount, I’m placed, to ne’er be free

Throughout my walls the wind in primal glee performs her whistled waltz
Within my lonely frame the birds for ages have their humble nests contrived
The children’s laughter is forgot, as well the screams of dying men
I’m perishing upon this lonely mount, my glory ne’er to be revived

The ages come and go and time continues his remorseless trek
The suns and moons in circles spin beyond the reach of flesh of mortal bent
I lie a ruined, crumbled corpse, beneath the gaze of knowing stars
Alone upon this frozen cliff, an ancient worn and spent

(featured image source)

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