Self on a Hill

Ruins are fine
And exciting
To find, but more

Exciting are
Ruins upon
Ruins, layers

Of earlier,
Other peoples,
Other cultures

From each other,
The top ruins
Without a clue

What lies under,
The middle, too,
A cake of time

Senescent, years
Of forgetting
Years that forgot.

And if this were
You, other selves
Unknown to you,

Long gone in mind,
Sequentially
Alien selves,

Not younger you,
Younger other,
You ruined you.