Stillness Standing

Watching from afar,
As if life is rolling
Through an unreal dream
Down deep
In an arid wishing well,
While the past recedes.

What once stood solid,

Front, sides and back,

Doors and windows,

Rooms all sheltered

Under a roof,
Is dissolved
To mossy leftovers
Of forlorn concrete,
Silent steps,

Abandoned pillars,

Witnesses
Of far yesterdays

Looking like battered marking stones
 Holding up ghosts

In some strangely rigid stance,

Waiting yet as if for a return

Of all else that was once supported

                                                                                                      On that gathering of abandoned masonry.

Almost cruel,

This weight,
So heavy,

So hard,

As if buried alive

Yet struggling to carry on

Under it all.