The Iconoclasm of Artifice

by Edward Cates and Anna Cates

To me, ancient ruins
Are always preferable
To stark metropolitan glitz

Let me see the places
Where time has seeped into
Lichen-wreathed stonework
Appreciating nature’s revulsion
At the angular excesses of man
Set my soul free to dance
Where the wild winds whistle
Untamed through empty panes
Let my tired heart again savor  
The taste of reclamation

There is oft more beauty
In where man once was
Than where he yet remains
Artistry in tumbledown ruins
Deciphered by nature’s pen
Transcribing life onto bricks
In fantastical, kenopsic verse
Teach us to love her poetry
Let our hearts learn to exult in
The iconoclasm of artifice

antique land
eroded strand revealing
the cairn . . .

poised like the sphinx
on the vibrant sands . . .
desert lynx

sunset
wind whispers
the mystery

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