Treading over chalk and rocks,
Gazing at the horses in the hills,
Reminiscing of what once was,
Running m'hands through the coldness of creek,
I feel the moss covering the past,
The brooches lie in dirt below,
I stand on a fortress that did not last,
All this silver, all this gold,
All are gone, not to hold,
& as I circle the circles,
'Tis circles that circle me,
'Tis funny how I stand and lie,
In ruins and yet very much alive,
I see the past which lies behind me,
But it very much defines me,
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