They say that the riverbed is the birthplace
of civilisation; (oh, how far we’ve come).
Unchanging the sun bids farewell as our pupils dilate further,
we look upwards stuck in shoeboxes
and other temporal shelters in the bosom of the desert.
Knowledge of Aquila and Heracles herald of obsession; oh
indeed, so far we’ve come; Flowers destroyed in casual action,
(but there’s nothing wrong with that!)
and wax havens become catacombs, tortuous recessions
of purest, white abodes. Oh, how far they’ve gone.
These are the times we take flight.