The rust of empire has crumbled
desiccated flakes float—
over once traversed lands
stocked with wild tribes
hidden in thicket
entwined with the sprites of nature
in a tight compact of kinship
fastened through blood
partaking from the same cup
civilisation built through conquered intent
walls and garrisons foreclosed to clans
disappeared in the smoke of battle
legacies of civic purpose lavish history books
the build of libraries, gymnasium, and lyceum
to gather and think and question
art, science, the stars
did it have to be so bloody?
on cobbled stones the hooves of horses can still be heard
old soldiers’ hunger to lay down swords
Emperors driven by a strident immortality
at the arena
feast on the venison of power
these old ghosts
spur the masses even today
the spears, shields and helmets molten
with demand
to claim ancient ancestors
conflict seeps into tributaries of separation
around borders and maps
truth covered in the gossamer of revision
there is an echo…