It all ends as it begins, the fire
Of divine creation consumes again the
Twisted remnants of our mortal inspiration -
Watch them as they streak across the sky.
We are both the chosen and the fallen -
And we are, one-by-one, toppled
Forests of antiquity - barren
Branches fractured, brittle china
Of our reconstruction.
The desperation of mortality, the
Hand above the breaking waves - she’s
Slipping to the coral now, so close to me.
As we've come to know them, ideologies
Dissolve to their constituencies.
Cities crumble to their stones;
Empires fall upon the bones
Of their constructors -
And we, the conquerors,
We shall know with certainty,
Upon the journey home.
It all begins upon the ends -
A new sun shining deep within
The wreckage of another -
In that clouded nebula,
What was there before?
Were there lively conversations
In their towns by rolling seas?
Was there someone looking skyward
To their Sovereign looking down to me?
Round around, around the candle’s glow,
The ocean of the river's flow,
The mountains of the dust below -
Columbia’s gone across the sky
It isn’t but to pass
It’s done -
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.