The architect sees the steel beams, the wooden frames, the gentle archways
That bend with grace
And lock at the sun's peak
Lacquered wood made to hold the sky
While the architect rubs his aching back
Amidst the congregation that has gathered to admire what is
What simply is, and exists, and how such a wonder can stand so proudly
Holding quiet history in the carved grooves of beauty
And the architect sees worth in what he has achieved, for pride fills the heart with strength
In places that have been reached.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
YOU ARE READING
Cement City
PoetryHow to capture it all? I was no photographer My paint brushes, I have retired And words simply do not belong On a cover The same way they fit In my mouth, or march along the surface Of these pages. How to capture it all? The sounds, the smells, the...
