To Dust
To Dust
Upon the plains of Babylon he raised
A mountain wrought of gardens for his queen,
Where dolphins swam in frescoed halls, and spring
Did wear a diadem of endless green.
Thus love became an architect of stone,
And pledged to conquer time with patient hands.
Yet desert drank the brick, and ages passed.
The earthquake spoke. The fire from heaven breathed.
Soft-footed time came forth and made his claim,
Till marble learned the humility of sand.
The Black Taj fell before its arches rose.
Knossos beheld her painted lovers fade.
And ink, once sovereign on the crumbling wall,
Now spells no word but what the wind recalls.
What then remains? The column and the name,
Both borrowed by the air and given back in dust.
Empires are footprints which the tempest erases,
And mortal crowns return unto the earth.
But love, enduring, doth refuse decay.
Though siege may burn and river may devour,
Though centuries may grind and tombs conceal,
That which was built of heart shall not be lost.
I gather, therefore, this pale dust as writ,
And read therein the proof that love outlasts its house.
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