I remember seas of green grass; sand and rock impervious to man.
Now
Empty lifts and rusted cans, an occurrence of dire portent.
The refraction of time leaves no illusion,
The bunkers and silos that we dwell in hide us from the present.
I search for memories of a forgotten world; fragments that can’t be fixed.
I see the stories of the poets scribbled on the cracked walls.
The cold empty silence.
The decay of the world carried across continents and oceans on temporal winds.
Morning finally projects its presence,
We bear witness to a wasted landscape that once stood strong and great,
Huddled against biting winds.
My thoughts are left with a taste of bittersweet regret; forgotten and abandoned.
Iain Cridland
