Speed Of Light

The obsolete sculptured plinths lay forgotten, their sleek graphite forms abandoned by a dismissive society; a civilisation who discard with a cursory shrug of their collective shoulders. There is evidence, though, that the softening and erasing of harsh lines will not take long; just a tiny moment in the stretch of time. Already small saplings are rising, their chloroformed shapes appearing on the horizon, as if to ogle and disparage the latest manmade atrocity.

Soon. Very soon, yellow and white lichens will slither up the angular granite, to warm in the sun. The grass will edge inwards, and will advance over the cocoa cube paving where man’s feet trod. A sapling seed hurled by the wind will hunker down; a root will sneak out and ferret into a tiny unnoticed gap, evidence of the workman’s fag break. A blackbird, angled tail bucking, will defecate a yew seed over the edge, its raw energy igniting into life.

In time to come its girth will split and rive the stone and it will merge, yew flesh with rock face.

Sheep tolerating the gaiety of their lambs will scale the pitted surfaces, cracked from the harsh lands climate. They will tuck down into ovine dips on the leeward side and shelter, their soft cud mouths moving ceaselessly, a rosary to the wind and snow.

The feral grass will house rodents, and will cause the eye of the buzzard to swivel.

Soon.