When I came across the arch I knew it was a very old archway. The conglomeration of stones, the crude but effective mortaring had obviously worked for it was still standing so many centuries since.
It was a structure to be marvelled at and I thought about the men who way back when had dragged the stone from various quarries and shaped the stones to create what I was seeing in front of me.
Who were these men I wondered?
Was the archway the result of their best work, making do with what resources they could find?
There had to have been a team of men because several of the stones I couldn’t imagine one man being able to lift and place as accurately as they had done.
I wondered the significance of it. Had it been the gateway to some paradise, to a place of worship, to a garrison?
Was it intended to lead me to greatness or was it as the cynic in me thought some crude joke played by stone masons to see what they could make from whatever stones they could find?
The grandest part of the archway was the arch stone itself, appearing to be one piece of stone.
Despite its rough exterior and appearance, I had to marvel at the result. I’m sure in its day it was a talking point in the village surrounding it.
Maybe it was thought of as an innovation in engineering.
One thing was for certain, it would still be there long after I was gone.