For you, Babylon

Our capable

and infinitely enveloping sky sings it's shades

from dusk to dawn,

as it always has and always will,

until the end.



But on this day,

it's voice carried much more

than a mere canvas of reflections.

The ocean lapped below,

as it always has and always would,

but the signal it gave to our capable sky

told of things pre-ordained.



Requital, Babylon.

Learn that word well,

our capable sky tells,

so that when your bones

begin to melt

and your hair and eyelashes

singe away softly as smoke,

you will know that this is the keeping

of an ancient and rapturous promise.



Today, even the hoatzins are hushed.

Their silence is their reverence,

and it is for you, Babylon.

You watch with awe and trepidation

as the sun is eclipsed by the moon,

for the first and last time.

The shadows you escaped so fearfully return,

and they take your homes as their own.

Your victory over the darkness

was not to be, and this night will consume you.

Or had you forgotten what tremulousness

these shadows found in you?



As the gore of the sun bleeds over your faces,

for the last time, admire it's beauty.

This is the very same ochre

which fed and sustained your people.

But drink all you can,

it will not save you tonight.

Kneel before your God, Babylon.