brosnað enta geweorc

 

Across unbridgeable distance we cannot say

for sure how long they thrived or bumbled on,

before distracted gods or dim-witted giants

failed to keep a grip.      

                              Sleek towers have crumbled,

their cladding dispersed, their teetering shells abraded

by simooms effacing their hapless sway,

with daily highs blazing beyond smart control

and night chills pitiless beneath cloudless sky. 

 

If standing still had been their way, they might

have lived at ease, accepting taboos.  

Ingenuous and free, they might have ceased

their striving and spread the love around:

their inoffensive malls, their muzak,

their touching faith in brands.

 

With our enlightened views, we can only guess

the bad luck or foolishness that triggered

their demise: the planetary shocks

they couldn’t absorb or lack of give and take

till all they had was slogans, flags, rubble;

their streets scoped by snipers.

 

Where now are the talking heads

who spelled out their choices,

while others gaped slavishly

at those whose names, splashed in lights,

still signal vaguely to the inaccessible stars?