This sonnet originally appeared in The Rialto Books Review Vol. 22.
The stony ruin rises on the plain
Arch after arch it crawls so plumb and straight
Once carried water from cool spring and rain
To bring pure life to the eternal state.
Around the plain blooms golden violet white,
From stones red poppies spring and vines all creep.
Old nature climbing up to arches’ height
And bit by bit crumbling down the stone weeps.
Deep in the stone the dusty channels dry,
Their waters stopped by time and foolish men
Who cut the city’s veins, not thinking why,
And ruined genius work beyond their ken.
Depart the ruins, seek the springs of old.
Go, traveler, drink waters sweet and cold.
Disclaimer: This is an original composition. No AI of any kind, generative or otherwise, was used in any way to write this story.Â