A few raindrops
make it through
brush overgrowing
an ancient cistern.
They make the
slightest sound
as they hit cool
still water. The
cistern used to be
famous. People
gathered there. Some
were important
and carried themselves
so. Posture, gestures,
clothes, high talk.
They knew and didn't
know that one day
it would be as if
they'd never been
anyone, anywhere,
anything.
