Pixaby image by Nathan Vance, used for Myths in the Mirror March Speculative Fiction Prompt
(*trigger warning – depicts a dystopian future)
Do not ask where the ancestors are in this great, lonely city, for they are all around. Do not ask where the guardians of this lone child are, for they are with her every step. They go before her and follow after. They raise her up though she is alone. The last one here it seems, though the wind tells otherwise. We are her neighbours, her teachers, her ancestors, those who have paved her path. Do not ask where we are, for we are the sands beneath her feet. Outlasted by our towers, like Ozymandias and his ‘vast and trunkless legs of stone’ of which the poet Percy Shelley wrote, these empty skyscrapers watch an eclipse of the sun. Their hollowed windows absorbing the shadows like unblinking eyes.
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