Hay Bales In Ruins

Is it ours to reason -

Or observe the ruined walls?

Sense the lack of life and living,

In the empty formless halls.

Feel stillness pierce the air,

Shallow breath and reason enter,

Here the scene is set for playing,

The Hay bales rolled to centre.

Where lies the script to play?

Who hides behind the scenes?

And when the hay is rolled away

Are the ruins in our dreams?

©Philip Holden

2003

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