Telescope

I saw again The landscape arid and dry Blooming sand dunes before my eye I saw the pain On the pyramids' face Saw the hunt and decapitation of the race Only those chosen can ever stand Long enough to crumble in the sand. The chosen are so few And so other in their point of view, Who can trust their mimicry still Like birds in their forest they will Sing and sing But not for us the puff of wing. What bird would we choose Who have been brothers to the lions Who have drank the tiger's milk? These two fear nor hawk, nor eagle I see them stretched out on the sands Pouring eternity through their hands.