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.