Poem: Becoming Irrelevant

The stones at the bottom of the well
feel brittle and dry
the water long gone
the soil is so parched.

Wind carries haunting voices
of those who come before
murmur of their fate
dark and long forgotten

Light does not exist here
the weight of stale air
frozen by unyielding time
smothers any change.

Cracks in the mortar between
handholds crumble at the touch
a long climb back to the light
and the view of all in the day.

But the sun still rises and sets
the world goes from spring to winter
Eyes have wandered to greener pastures
and voices ask, "Do I know you?"