A Hole is Never Empty

An archeologist will tell you that

Disguising holes is just impossible.

The buildings and the cities disappear.

The walls and ceilings are the first to go

And even when the walls are built of stone

They soon are gone.  There’s nothing left of Troy

Or Ithaca except a poet’s words

And holes and trenches. Only they remain;

Mute testimony filled by sand and time.

A puzzle, all that’s left of people’s hopes,

And laughter, struggles, pain, desires, fears.


I have my own abandoned hole that I

Am slowly filling in. It was to be

A Scottish loch with Nessie hiding in

The reeds. And then I planned to have a pool

I could have stolen from the gardens of

Versailles. And then a quiet pool designed

For contemplation. A reflecting pool.

An aquaculture center filled with perch,

And trout, and salmon. Or a swimming hole

For acting like a kid on summer days.

A home for pirate ships. The Amazon

where enemies will disappear for good.

But soon it will be gone. If there’s a dig

A hundred or a thousand years from now,

The archeologists will simply find

A filled in hole and wonder why it’s there,

And what its purpose was. They will not find

The lost, forgotten, and abandoned dreams.

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