The Quarry
It is only a pit in the ground, surrounded by the rough edges of jaggedly-cut stone. It was once the earth, true and whole where plants used to grow. I walk into this pit, this mine, and I look at how the sky has claimed it as its own. Towering into the earth it has claimed it’s space; the earth works too slowly to reclaim what is lost.
I touch the ground which is filled with pebbling shards, crushed beneath the machinery that stole its brethren. It is cold and moist from the water trapped by the cavern, falling to the broken ground unable to escape once captured.
There are few animals, and birds stay mainly on the edge shelfs, ever leerily the the earth may one day reclaim what they now call home. A few flutter of wings and they leave me alone, a solo figure in the emptiness below.
I’ve seen it all in minutes, there is not much to see. The air makes for poor imagery being nothing but vapour; the wall nothing but scars. I climb out of the pit, on the same trail that I entered. Never looking back as the sun is beginning to fall. Night captures day, like the sky captures earth. Each never ending but slow at first.
