Drifting Relic Poem by Jason Caporaletti

The wave of time sweeps over.
It is carried by it, carried forward like driftwood into the new age.
Once, a pillar, holding the weight of a grand structure;
now, a forgotten artifact, dragged along because it exists.

A relic brought along into the future
longing to remain burried in its time,
but alas, uncovered,
its historic value called upon to serve.

The future is born without the hindrance of experience
Yet the relic is jaded with the past
A lesson of what this future may become,
once its dynasty passes like all do.

How does one become a relic?
The last memory of something long gone,
of which all who had known have gone,
still here on this earth, but all alone.

It is to be outlived by one's compatriots?
Or just simply to be left behind?
Is there really any difference?
Either way it means one is holding on.

What worth is the warrior's helmet?
Once the shield to its left is lost,
and the spear to its right is broken
and the life that occupied it, withered away.

Can it embrace the resolve of the Phoenix?
Rebirth itself with purpose anew?
Such feats require will more than ability,
how can one seek new life when life died so unromantically...

For now the relic can drift with the waves
little by little with false incentive,
waiting for a new foundation.
Carried by the wave of time, dragged along because it exists.