Photo Opportunity

Here, on this rock, an ancient man once stood

Trembling on the first edge of discovery.

Alone, he took no joy in play of light or shade

No pleasure in the distant lines of hill

And tree that bounded nature’s view.

He looked for danger, listened for the sounds

That signalled prey and predator, life or death,

He thought not of the future, but stood and shivered there.

A thousand years passed by, a shepherd waited here,

His cold silhouette, sharp in the morning light.

He saw the smoke that told the end of rural life

Smudged his connexion to the land, his place of birth

He looked beyond the landscape, further than the hills

He saw the past, the pain of daily toil

The death of kindred, the gnaw of want

And sensed the coming of a future fraught with fear.

Now I stand here, in that very place

Like them, I find no joy within its lines,

No beauty. This is not new, no great adventure

No discovery, not fresh, not rare.

I am not alone, I stand among a throng

Of idiots, a cacophony of camera and phone.

Crushed in a sea of waste, butt ends and chewing gum.

This was and is a place of torture to the soul.