Born In The Ruins

In differing locations,
ruins lay where once
a proud building had stood.
Crumbling human effort left
where once a crowd did brood.
A king in waiting
escaped the rigid harshness
of duties that abounded.
And there he would go,
to think and be -
no longer hounded.
In the ruins, trees were born
where dappled sunlight
and vines intertwine.
Soft moss formed

and light undergrowth.
Exquisite plants and tender green.
Stone window-casings
ornately beckon the weary
where once stain-glass clad.
Glorious views wide open,
a place to recline it did lend.
And oft he did just that,
a book in one hand.
The ruins, a place 

of surprising renewal,
A meeting place
of God and his man.
It was there,
that new birth began.