Faintly, and as if from a great distance

Faintly, and as if from a great distance.*

Fall steps along the hallowed, hollowed whitened path
that began four millennia ago
and end today
in a pile of rusted iron struts
and rotting Merewether timbers.
Cast sarsen souls on pallets of 21st century dust.

Words fail
voids fill
then open up on another dismal collapsing surface
of another dark day of dismal lies.

And all the time they paint another rosy watercolour
of consolidation and restoration and not-in-the-book conservation.
Epithets for the spineless.
Phoney photographs for the future.

While a thousand plastic bags pad out their stupidities.

LS

* Thanks to gjrk for this line.