We do not imagine

We do not imagine the death of a thing at it's beginnings. We do not envision the demise of a great structure when the smell of oak is still in the air. Perhaps we should; then we would not be quite so taken back by a sunken place...long forgotten. Perhaps we would be less haunted by the voices that once called down each corridor. Perhaps then we would shudder less at the breaking down of the great halls within each of us.