Trussed Silhouette
How well I remember
My days of creation!
How each timber was
Laid with loving hands!
I can feel the ringing
Blows of hammer yet...
Then, but wooden trusses,
Now, a rustic marvel;
I have grown in stature.
As my landscape changes,
I sit in silent wonder
Of those that come and go...
I revisit the days of yonder;
On distant, twisted shore,
When the sweat of man
First dripped my brow,
And I was no longer alone
On dawn's golden horizon...
Specks of brown amid tall grass
Began to take shape, form;
As men toiled incessantly
Like little ants upon a hill,
Building hopes, dreams, realities-
Things that should never die...
But, I was there when floods
Came and washed away all;
Every hope, dream, and reality...
Gone with the waters of their tears.
And once again I was alone,
Lost upon the landscape...
Years passed, slowly, quickly...
As I aged with ageless grace.
New buildings came to stand
Where others have long fallen,
Their decomposed skeletons
Forever buried in silent soil.
And yet these, too, will pass...
They will one day surrender
To the scarred hands of time.
They will bow to yon horizon,
And I will once again be alone;
All alone in this... my landscape!
My days of creation!
How each timber was
Laid with loving hands!
I can feel the ringing
Blows of hammer yet...
Then, but wooden trusses,
Now, a rustic marvel;
I have grown in stature.
As my landscape changes,
I sit in silent wonder
Of those that come and go...
I revisit the days of yonder;
On distant, twisted shore,
When the sweat of man
First dripped my brow,
And I was no longer alone
On dawn's golden horizon...
Specks of brown amid tall grass
Began to take shape, form;
As men toiled incessantly
Like little ants upon a hill,
Building hopes, dreams, realities-
Things that should never die...
But, I was there when floods
Came and washed away all;
Every hope, dream, and reality...
Gone with the waters of their tears.
And once again I was alone,
Lost upon the landscape...
Years passed, slowly, quickly...
As I aged with ageless grace.
New buildings came to stand
Where others have long fallen,
Their decomposed skeletons
Forever buried in silent soil.
And yet these, too, will pass...
They will one day surrender
To the scarred hands of time.
They will bow to yon horizon,
And I will once again be alone;
All alone in this... my landscape!
Marcus Lewis
Written in response to UPA Picture Challenge
Written in response to UPA Picture Challenge
6/15/2009
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