RAINBOW SALAD | POETRY | PROSE
Ancient Streets, Modern Beats
Walking through history to understand today
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Wandering through cobbled lanes, where each stone beneath my feet Holds tales of ages when time itself seemed to beat A slower rhythm, a gentle pace of life, I marvel how we’ve moved to days so rife With haste and hurry, screens that blind our sight From sunsets splendid, stars that light the night.
“Ah,” sighs a voice within, “what wisdom lies In these silent watchers of centuries’ skies? Could they speak? What stories would they tell Of love and loss, of heaven and of hell?” I pause, reflecting on this thought so vast, How modern life seems disconnected from the past.
Through old archways, I tread with reverent awe, Each step is a journey; each breath I draw A link to those who once walked these same paths, Their hopes and dreams, their joys and their wraths. “Look around,” I whisper to the air, “See how history’s etched in every layer.”
The stones, speak of resilience, strength, Of enduring through trials of untold length. In their silence, a lesson to be learnt: To slow our pace, to love, to be concerned With more than just our solitary plight, But with the story of humanity, burning bright.
Modern life, with all its noise and glare, Seems shallow, fleeting, stripped and bare When cast against the backdrop of these ancient streets, Where every stone a solemn history greets. “Could we but carry forward this serene wisdom, Imagine the harmony, the peace we’d welcome.”
This journey through the corridors of time Alters perception, rhythm, and rhyme Of our daily existence, so fraught with stress and strife, Offering instead a richer, fuller life. “Let’s blend the old with new,” I find myself propose, To weave a future where tranquillity and progress coalesce.
As I emerge back onto bustling modern lanes, The clamour of the present once again reigns. Yet something within me has irrevocably changed; My soul, with ancient whispers, is now entwined, exchanged. “Carry forth this wisdom,” my heart now sings, For in the dance of history, we find the truest things.
So, as I walk through the neon glow, A piece of the past within me now grows. It guides my steps, it calms my mind, In ancient streets, modern beats I find. A bridge between the eras, old and new, I walk, enlightened, with a broader view.
| C.J. Coop © 2024. All rights reserved. |
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