Asphalt is a grey stain
vital for movement,
yet a blemish on the soul
natures beauty, now flat and grey.
-
Lain great swathes
the veins of our society,
connecting us all
lungs of tar.
-
Laid and forgotten
time dulling their grey,
dour and drab
wishing to be walked upon.
-
Yet where some see sadness
I see the beauty of nature,
in hand with their eternal ally
Old Man Time.
-
Where the asphalt is forgotten
no feet treading down,
emerald streams
bubble from below.
-
A mossy carpet
starting to form,
encompassing the cracks
spiritual Kintsugi
-
Rivers of moss
flooding the network of the forgotten,
byways
and highways.
-
A spiritual formation
natures tenacity,
filling our lungs with fresh air
mossy tarmac.
About the Creator
Alexander Stoddart
The musings of a melancholic man.
Poems, stories and anecdotes to make sense of the world.
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