and he toils, ever so, ever yet.
this is man. these men.
they exist or they exist not—one knows not.
and the place still exists, ever so, ever yet.
just shinier, polluted, and a little less clean.
but it exists.
and the earth bears witness to the weight of those hooves, once pressed onto the surface, day in, day out. and it bears witness to the wheels, once drawn in all their glory—the automobile of the time.
and the stone that rises bears witness to the lives beneath, toiling for livelihood, aware that the evening will bring quiet as these men head home with the day’s earnings. and it bears witness to that time. to this time. to all time.