WallIron and granite.The weeping red and brown of rusted run-off, The flaking, peeling plaster and paint, Deep scars and scores mar its countenance. The wall is ten hundred thousand years older than I. Weathered and aged, Its decrepit crust and crumbling concrete have danced their decadence for winters untold. The image of eternity’s entropy— Gorgeous in its withered, fractured texture of lichen scales and dusty cement— entreats me to dare to suffer the decades ahead unblinking and resolute, disintegrating into cinder crumbs, chipping away at each onslaught of rain, peeling in the scorching, and so ensconced that all the king’s horses could not shake me from my foundation. |