The burning sun dips behind the buildings
That blur my view.
They stand, strong sentinels,
Soldiers from another time.
Heavy with rust,
Bowing with age,
Yet their proud necks extend
Stretching tall toward the Heavens,
Regaling another far off time.
An epoch when the world still,
Flourished.
Before the insect-like destruction.

The tears coursing down my cheeks,
They are memories.
Stories and tales of my beautiful world
Before it slipped through my grasp
Like water in cupped hands.
I mourn my loss
And your loss.
The epitaph of the world reads:
Silence.
Illegibly carved onto the backs
Of those who walk her surface
And for now, we all choose to ignore it.