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Fragments of stone slip by me
In this vast desert of despair.
Filthy boulders are all that remain
Of the illustrious rock of ages.

Twisted steel girders of might
And iron beams of glory
Sob lightly in their fallen splendor
Of days now clouded in the dust.

Shards of shattered glass lay
Strewn across the wasteland.
Violent sandstorms rage throughout
Smothering me in ash and smoke.

Beads of steaming sweat drip
Down the smiling faces of the
Heroes in hard-hat helmets
With their hearts of gold.

Gentle drops of rain drizzle
And splash on my skin.
Or perhaps they are tears
From my loved ones up above.

Fragments of hope are scattered
Among the ruins of two giants.
But I look up at the sun,
Then down at ground
And I place a fresh-picked rose
Amidst the immovable past,
And I pick up in return
A lonely fragment for myself.

-Ari Gilder, 1/14/02

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