Ruins

Aissa Martell
2 min readMar 2, 2024

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Photo by author, Cervaro Italy

Stones align a crooked path of what once was a welcoming drive directing the pathway home. Now they lie in ruins haphazardly along an ancient road. Once carefully laid plans, now strewn about, randomly scattered by the elements and time. A reminder of the life and love that once traveled there. Ages ago lovers held hands along the lane secured safely between man-made barriers. Granite hedges now creeping with Poet’s Ivy lay a beautiful reminder that nothing stays the same. The mountains that surround them grace the clouds with an earthly touch. The collision of time makes the most beautiful scars. Even the most solid of foundations must change. The metamorphoses altering the path and outlook. Once flat land met along the earth’s rotation like two hearts colliding. United in body divided by a stretch come together and lift. The hands that once held there, the life that breathed and sighed there lay aspiring in the mountains, coursing memories in the ruins.

Ghosts whispering with the fading sun, distant laughter from a hidden source, hearts that met and built their lives on an evolving landscape linger in the ether. Where Bella once wept for her heart’s desire, where Dante’s mother kissed his scraped knees, where savagery reigned the Winer Line, and bloodshed colored it rectified. It caresses the face in the wind like the mountains enticing heaven with a puckered kiss, with the ruins as a sturdy reminder.

The cocoon spun out of ripening emotions, is meant to shield us until we are ready for flight, like the mountains awaiting their ascension. We hatch into the world and produce life, share love, weave poetry, conceive science, and build homes. Inspired by innovation that’s nurtured within the silken folds of our spirit, we lay the groundwork for our memory. From the earthly wither and wear to the spirits residing within the traces.

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