Creepers choke the stumps of spires,
Hiding heaps of ancient rust,
Mighty arrows of hubris and desire
Dissolve to dark, red dust.
Ancient bones of electronic wonders
Lie buried under creeping moss,
Their ether stilled, forever silent,
Miracles un-mourned in loss.
Towering machines — once living gods —
Their passing made the whole earth tremble;
Now dark, unmoving, lifeless hulks,
Left to centuries to crumble.
No longer paths, but fractured veins,
Now softened under green;
Long ages passed since feet trod there,
Since life had filled the scene.
A glimmer first — a fleeting hint —
Half-hidden deep in trees,
A broken bastion, faint and lost,
Where once they swarmed like bees.
A testament to vanished days,
No shadows now reside;
No trace of form, no echo left,
Decay rules like a tide.
Debris lies strewn in dappled light
Where halls once proudly stood;
Forgotten are the gathered crowds —
Would memory do them good?
Beside the shore, a final grave,
In restless waters floating free,
Rusting hulks like dying whales
Are gnawed by wind and sea.
