The cobbled tongues of off-cut streets
allude to former occupations;
exposed bones in stalled foundations
testify to such defeats
as death and deathless time impose.
The pregnant past may find repose
in printed books; on stones and scrolls;
or rest untouched in vaults and cases;
it may haunt the vaunted spaces
piety imbued with souls.
But, importuning, it confirms
what we consign to dust, and worms,
may not admit its own demise  
but in abeyance simply wait   
for time and temper to dictate 
the novel path of its reprise.