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RUINA
by

David Calvert

Stark and bleak are the once proud walls as atop a tor it
broods, silhouetted against the eerie backdrop of an
encroaching mist.

Grey and desolate it appears, rising up ominously from


the primordial rock ; a timeless, ancient relic born of the
greed of men.

A once awesome stronghold it was, now broken and


scarred by time and neglect.

In reflective mood I look upon it and wonder of the


ancients who gazed beyond its ramparts onto a land not
their own.

Fleeting and transitory am I against the epochs it has


known, and those it has yet to know, lest the seed of its
warrior race deem fit to end its immutable span.

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