HOLDING THE TELL

Tower-toppling plastics and ceramic, all
shiny, happy, clever antics, mixed matter

all around the world; beings captured in
love spill their multitude – recognition.

Fantasy-people have status if not feelings.
They’re falling too, will remain a century

at least longer than our bones, still smiling,
frozen in directives with options of fictions

far away on speculative beaches, washed-up
heroes from long forgotten history. Bright

old things with secret knowledge, faded
in parts; only the unearthed would blaze

in original splendour, catching the finder
spluttering delight at astonishing treasure.

Adoption, declaration of care in community
and fame opening revels again, as relics.