this was no shrine of mammon, this;
it was a place of honest toil,
according to the man who let me in —

i wander all around these grounds,
and try then to imagine
what all this looked like in its day and pomp

for “this perspective”, only, is
what we are gifted with;
whatever “this” may be for you or me —

and mine right now is of a place
that once was full of life,
but now lies fading – empty – unremarked.

i still believe in human life,
i still believe in love and hope,
i won’t be hollowed out of my belief

for everything and nothing, are
the same to one who’s shattered;
and distance is no barrier
to grief