Naked+Statue

O you of Ancient days. You were created in times of peace and thrived in your grandeur. You were placed high for all to marvel at your flawless figure, your stomach of solid rock, your smooth legs and arms, perfectly etched out, as you pose in all your glory. You stood as a testament to the great minds of your time. You represented victory, prosperity, dominance, for the land of your birth. You had people who washed you and kept you. You were worshiped as faithfully as the gods that you incarnated, o you of Ancient days.

But Ancient you are and no power can last forever. Soon enough your enemies came and your people turned to wildebeests and fled from the storming lions. They abandoned you, left you to the fate of barbaric men. Many of them paid no attention and left you there to stand in the shadow of a new victor. Yet others saw everything you embodied and detested you. They would plunder and beat you to spite those who fled. And you, of Ancient days were abandoned.

No more to be adorned. You were left to the weather, and mother nature is a cruel parent. Her baths for you scoured your details away. Her fan that kept you cool blew water and bits of rubble into your core, scooping out chunks of your magnificent skin. Her winters split your bones from their joints and left scars and gashes all over your once glorious physique.

You were hidden away, never to be worshiped again. And there you were when you became Ancient by age. Time ceased to exist. It merely passed as light and dark continue to battle for the domination of the place where you stand alone.

‘Til one day, men come and break open the tomb where you live. They come with captured lightning to blind you then plunge shovels and iron into your broken aged feet and lift you from your place, they lay you in a padded crate . It’s dark. You’ve been hearing and feeling strange rumbles over what seems like several days. Finally, your kidnappers pull you out and place you down in a cold, quiet hell with many more of your kind. They fix you up and leave you in this hushed, chilled place.

People see you again, but they wear strange clothing and they simply gawk at you. They pay money to stare at you and those around you. They mock your nudity and laugh at your disfigured state. A few people tell your tale to groups of these people, but you hold no more glory. And now your broken body and broken soul will stay here forever as a freak show.