DAILY PHOTO: Scenes from Bidar Fort
Reply
From the hilltop,
one can watch nature reclaim:
green grows up the glass,
tufts sprout from each crevice
and the man-made world is crevice-laden,
one seed blown into a mortar crack
will become a wedge --
a sprout that splits stone.
Concrete and steel prove
digestible:
time, water, oxygen,
the enzymatic requirements are few.
Fungi blooms from a pile-full of dung.
I don't know whether it's a desirable meal,
whether our trappings & vestiges are
haute cuisine,
or merely a meal
of convenience.
This place was once with us.
Now, it's hidden so well
that it's become a myth,
a once firm and tangible thing --
now invisible & conceptual.
Nature swallowed our world
and farted our mythos.

from old stone ruins
grow hardy weeds, raising
flowery heads skyward.
I ventured beyond civilization, and (by man's definition) I was lost. I knew no near city, state, or nation. Who knows what backwoods borders I'd crossed? I'd drifted down streams: still and rapid tossed, and when boat filled faster than I could bale, I took to foot. Onward at any cost! I passed over mountains and through their vales, and trudged the badlands, unparted by trails. But he who's lost is often he who finds, and I learned history's forfeit details in form of ruins in a sheltered blind. Oh! What novel and beautiful sights are had by lost souls in eternal nights!



the old fort wall
is covered in plants that grow
from dust in cracks.

a tree grows
out of stone ruins -
not so ancient