The Ruin

Remorseless sun     stunts the dew

Glistening towers     of tainted glass
ignite and blister     in blood-yellow light
recalling the tallest     of crumbling tombs
as humbler graves     harbor their dead
in the clutches of earth     and callous night

The past is draining     through inhuman dreams
no people are packing     backrooms and bars
no pride or empire     rises on ruins
no glance at a face     gleans what is fair

Everyone senses     evil has come

The world we knew     will not be renewed
and gods of technology     are graceless and numb

We call for a hero     but just hear recordings  

Next
YOU MIGHT ALSO LIKE

Disney Adulting (ft. Veronica Clarke)

Virginia Aabram Germán S. Díaz del Castillo

In this episode, Veronica Clarke joins Germán and Virginia (who are subbing in for R. R. Reno)…

Tennyson’s Poetic Faith

Sam Buntz

Richard Holmes’s new biography, The Boundless Deep, depicts how Alfred Lord Tennyson absorbed the scientific discoveries of…

Letters—June/July 2026

The sentimental images painted of proud, tight-knit communities slowly crumbling away are compelling, but I have to…