I look at men in the height of their youth Building towers that will scrape the heavens, And I know—as do you—that their towers Will crumble and fall into noiseless dust.
I look as men in the height of their youth Go running, running, towards or away, Through voids and empty black stretches of tar And I know—as do you—that they will die.
Look with me beyond the void of highways, Look at a home, at a soft touch, at a Memory passed to children, and you see— As do I—that which alone reaches heaven.
Log in or register to write something here or to contact authors.
Lost password
Sign Up
Need help? accounthelp@everything2.com