The City is Built on the Previous City

Loose rope drifts forever down, falling past

Balconies and Vantage Points that peer further downward, falling past

Torches made from resin, then animal fat, then something never meant to burn, falling past

So much gold jewelry it would make you head spin, crushed under wooden beams, falling past

The alleyways never once patrolled, falling past

The mindless born from digging up a vengeful stone, falling past

The vision of architects held aloft by the cobbled remains of the vision of architects held aloft by the cobbled remains of the vision of architects held aloft by the cobbled remains of the vision of architects held aloft by the cobbled remains of the vision of architects held aloft by the cobbled remains of the vision of architects held aloft by the

Falling past