A factory in the desert; no seed in the shell.
A work of art within; new water in the well.
A fortress on the hill; steel and stone.
A creature within it; naked and alone.
Haunted by the shadows, of an empire of dust.
Dreaming of a landscape; tranquil and lush.
On cold mornings rise, with remnants of war,
And for a bright moment, know the sun once more.
Wilson Carroll