Xeriscape
The year is 79AD...
The engineer's feet
step carefully...
upon the dark dirt...
onyx hues like the sky.
This sky is pricked
by the wake of death.
He exclaims, such
illumination! Our
path, the land that provides
sustenance! Water! Life!
Buried, to be dug up!
To gush...or trickle...
nourish the soil, US!
Be re-routed, sculpted
to sprout a new "river"
through a "channel".
Ours. Not "theirs". We
are ROMAN! We might
build...maybe CREATE!
(Greeks invented) But
as we seek innovation,
we possess. We kill.
He looks up. Until
now, he questioned
the early hours,
the NIGHT... the
loyalty of his
comrades. And TWO SLAVES.
He became dubious,
skeptical...fearful.
ALAS!
The sun emerges
as a gleam around
the rims- a ring of white gold.
They climb.Their leather boots-
too many Lires-
slip, dry earth crumbles,
too dry for their quest.
Too unsure...too CRUCIAL.
Yet, the CROSS, ahead!
Proud.
Alone. A surveyed
earth. Zoetic streams
underground. He digs,
and digs, and digs, arm
crooked over a hole
so grave- deep, he thinks
of an afterlife
cloaked in a void
of GOOD. Diabolus,
perhaps? Large creatures,
they do not want to hurt,
as they hold...you...but
they must. They are help-
less in this role; they
lack this GOODNESS; GOD-
less, yet ruled. Subjects,
AS WE ARE. The Child?
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