There is only dust in the air now. The buildings blackened by flame, the rubble no longer shifts. The lonely streets echo with steps and winds which blow through hollow shells of homes, where once the deafening roar of the civilized sort had made itself all too well known.
Where once great deities of man and darlings of history stood proud as immortal statues, now lay many silent and broken, devoid of love and memory. Another step reveals that there is little new to see. The shattered remains of a city too great to ever fall all crumble in every other direction.
Above the sky is clear, and the sun becomes consumed by the moon whose hunger steals the light and shields this place from view. The stars come out during this day to look down in their pity, and gaze upon the twisted remains of this once proud jewel of man.
Perhaps it is a mercy that this place would meet the dark. The walls themselves try to forget what they have now become, and think of long before when they stood tall and reached toward the heavens.
But there is nothing here for me to see, just broken bits of past.
A response to this March prompt.