Abiotic The Graze Of Locusts
When pastures are liberated from the graze of locusts,
golden horizons will reveal vestiges of decaying
monuments. In oceans of ephemerality we seek to become
imperishable. In streams of eternity our immortality is
fleeting. When this life fades I'll be at rest, for I'll
have detached myself from my worthless legacies. I have
cherished my possessions and I have forsaken simplicity:
materialization of the spiritual and spiritualization of
the material. I hope they sear the pillars and great
walls of my Alexandria. We waste our days assembling vast
shrines upon disbanding sands. Our greatest
accomplishments consist of having conquered empires of
stone. When this life fades I'll be at rest. "All the
glory in the world can be gathered in a grain of corn."
Within the illusion of reality and the reality of an
illusion, constellations remain invisible but not
nonexistent. Let's build a sphinx of meaning that never
weathers.
