A man lies still on marble cold,
Beneath the arches proud and old,
Where GPO in grandeur sleeps
And history its silence keeps.
Beside him, dumped without a name,
A cabinet, once prized, now shame—
Discarded wood, a hollow frame,
Much like the system, just the same.
The papers speak of growth and gain,
Of votes cast high for migrant trains,
To feed the beast, the market’s call,
That builds the towers, lets men fall.
For what is worth in gilded land,
When empty palms outstretch a hand?
And under stone, in shadow’s keep,
A nation buys, but will not weep.
Sony A7RV
FE 50mm f1.2 GM
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