Former Glories

A disembodied voice echoes along a wall,
Holding truths and stories, sounding a siren call,
Possessing power to set minds upon a wheel,
Unwinding the hoary thread it’s primed to reveal.

Ancient implements, honeysuckle rope, a circle reclaimed from the sea,
Glossy spiked fauna, revolved by steam engine, bought children time to ride free.
Jewellery by deft hands finely wrought,
Medicines and sweetmeats dispensed and bought.
Letters from schools cheering men missing home,
Tracing past lives proves just how far we’ve come.

Does the synthetic signal the end of our reign?
Do those seeking immortality seek in vain?
No, future people will assess what we create,
In a ceaseless quest for touchstones fit to curate.