The Abbey Among Oak Trees
Time.
It has grown
these knarreled
and misshapen oaks.
It has ravaged
and swelled
these grey grey graveyards.
And it faded
the once
great abbey into
the ruins that
haunt this
broken, shattered faith
like the dusty
remains of
finely grated
mosaics
and after humanity’s
faint and
fading mark
disappears
into the growing
tendrils of
vines and
branches
nature’s immortal claim
will also
fade over
millennium-
leaving but only
the moon
and celestial
bodies
to watch over
this grand
grandfather clock
as
it ticks away
each remaining
breath to nothingness.
Time.
This poem is about:
Our world