Just stone and I and nothing else. Just grains of time like dust embedded in the pillars holding up this semblance of life, making shadows from the light so that no matter where I stand I won’t see far. Just stone and I and nothing else. No friendly words to to tell me that tomorrow will be fine.
Just hollow sounds and passing time. Just cryptic unheard voices warning me to listen close but speaking tongues that I don’t understand. Just sunset after sunset after sunset that I miss because I’ve made acquaintance with the shadows, and thier advice is not to look.
Just friendships trapped in granite. Just memories of pleasant things petrified in columns, cold and insoluble, always there to see but not to hold. Just words of people loved grown silent as the night pulls over us. I can speak but they won’t hear, and so my language fails and now I hope these tears can pass the message, but they won’t.
Just epitaphs and eulogies and passages on marble plaques that speak of things from other times and places, things existing still perhaps outside the shadows, but in here they’re only thoughts, and the more I think the more they fade and when they finally vanish all I’ve got are fantasies devoid of texture, echoes of my voice impersonating someone else.
Just me and lonely voices. Voices thin and tenuous, repeating evanescent words I recognize as mine. Faithless whispers preaching sermons from a photo album of another time. Tracing back the family tree to find its root and drive a copper nail. Voices talking over history so loud the present moment’s squelched.
Just stone and I and nothing else. Nothing left behind to prove the welter, no vestige of the outside implicit in the poetry written by the waning light. Just stone and I and nothing else. Just the last remaining grips of day to grasp the moments as they pass and hold them there in time for me to savor once before they die.
#paris #france #pantheon