"Now that I know
How passion warms little
Of flesh in the mould,
And treasure is brittle,—
I’ll lie here and learn
How, over their ground,
Trees make a long shadow
And a light sound."
- Louise Bogan, "Knowledge" via @aliner
"VIROCONIUM CORNOVIORUM
I met your broken bones today, my kin,
so weak inside the Wrekin’s timeless haze,
which witnessed, once, your savvy and your sin:
the werewolf, howling vows, with eyes ablaze;
the emerald of an Empire, forged within
your Celtic fire. I trod the tender green
once paved with ochre stone and gravelled mud
where legions struck their lances. Now serene,
a solitary wall stands tall, defaced
by time and Saxon axes; rain and blood —
the embers of an Empire. Now retraced,
your broken bones engrave the plains today,
unearthed beneath the verdant work of waste.
I stand beside the wall, so far away."
--@Anthony_Etherin
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