There is a beauty in death. That beauty can be found in any cemetery. Cemeteries are art galleries for those who have gone before us. Some are opulent family sanctuaries, preserving generations in stone and marble. Others are humble family plots, scratched out where people made their homes. Many of these have been lost to time, forgotten by even their descendants.
Time moves on. Rain falls, the sun rises, and the wind blows, slowly erasing the last signs of those who are gone. Stones wear smooth, names and dates fade, and eventually, they disappear entirely. When no one is left to share their stories, they are genuinely lost to everyone.
Like life, everything humans create begins to decay once it is done and takes hold when abandoned. Graves crumble and fall into disrepair as people move away or pass on. The only way to prevent this is through constant care. Yet, there is beauty in the decay. Weathered stones, moss, and lichen-covered epitaphs tell stories of time’s relentless march.
Some cemeteries are so neglected that their preservation comes into question. Should we maintain them or let nature take its course? These spaces remind us of the fragility of life and the impermanence of memory. They are places where the past and present collide, offering a quiet reflection on the passage of time.
Even in their decay, cemeteries hold stories. They remind us of life’s cycle—creation, neglect, and renewal—and the beauty found in the process.
Here are some images I captured visiting a beautiful cemetery in south Texas.
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