The howling winds screech dirges around the edifice of grey rocks. Rain lashes at the
pallor with drops running down as fusillade of tears. All the vestiges of the the former
days of glory are eroded and only the skeletal remains put up a show of weak decay.
holding fort expecting a footfall or of a promise to be kept? Do the walls have a choice
to stand erect or bury themselves in the wild growth? The questions are numerous and
the answers are few nay none.
Some intrepid soles come searching for thrill or for a slice of bygone history. their eyes
admire the behemoth structure and label them as strong garrison withstanding the
vagaries of the weather and climate changes. Esoteric minds came hunting for a pie of
regalia to return with no signs of it. Urban adventurers brave the hurdles to return with
photographs of themselves smiling against the backdrop of ancient fort walls to adorn
their Facebook profiles or bolster their Instagram followers. The unwanted visitors
pierce the crumbling hearts of the ancient rocks.
Whom do the weary rocks keep a vigil? Or are they watched by the time and Karma?
written for : Thursday Photo Prompt. Thank you Sue Vincent.