Ancient Ruins (day 702)

Standing here marked in my sentinel pose
The pigeons have come home, bringing what blows
Shifting time here from then, now, and future
And watching seasons twist before my eyes
Carrying new colours with birth, love, and death

But my purpose has been lost in the changing of regime
What once was a tyrant has now become kindly
Taxes increased, but civil liberties have too

Blinking slowly I become a shifting flower of dust
A shocking array of memories unwritten
While passersby brood and confuse points on maps
And come more and go, pigeons of flight
Remain here in harbour, remain here at rest

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