Anything that ever was the building, the cabin, the slave quarters groaning beneath development, the burial ground mourned its death suffering the indignity of erasure as silent ashes cast into the wind Rising with the horizon time is an anecdote for green fields and barbed wire fences where the clocks rest with sparrows on power lines watching cars drive past trying to make themselves herd Plugged in the power concentrates like shockwaveform islands of concentric time gravity waves surfing spacetime at light spreed wearing concrete piers away with thousands of years of water surging before tempests forgotten like every dawn of history Where nothing disappeared each idea formed still exists in the mind of God every soul and thought of lifetimes traveling through structures of being and becoming passing on.
