You all look like ants, crawling down below
When I am able to stand from the height.
I can see how far that this city grew
As it takes, from nature, another bite.
Over the desert, the road stretches forth
To the places where the Bedouins camped;
You may look to the south, east, west, and north
To witness how that culture has been stamped.
It can now be found within the museums,
Or the picture books given to children.
Humankind is subjected to its whims
To ignore the places where it has been.
I stand atop its crowning achievement,
A tower, to God’s grace, will not be bent.
John Collings 