The  Graze  of  Locusts  -  Abiotic

When  pastures  are  liberated  from  the  graze  of  locusts,  golden  horizons  will  reveal  vestiges  of  decaying  monuments.  In  oceans  of  ephemerality  we  seek  to  become  imperishable.  In  streams  of  eternity  our  immortality  is  fleeting.  When  this  life  fades  I'll  be  at  rest,  for  I'll  have  detached  myself  from  my  worthless  legacies.  I  have  cherished  my  possessions  and  I  have  forsaken  simplicity:  materialization  of  the  spiritual  and  spiritualization  of  the  material.  I  hope  they  sear  the  pillars  and  great  walls  of  my  Alexandria.  We  waste  our  days  assembling  vast  shrines  upon  disbanding  sands.  Our  greatest  accomplishments  consist  of  having  conquered  empires  of  stone.  When  this  life  fades  I'll  be  at  rest.  "All  the  glory  in  the  world  can  be  gathered  in  a  grain  of  corn."  Within  the  illusion  of  reality  and  the  reality  of  an  illusion,  constellations  remain  invisible  but  not  nonexistent.  Let's  build  a  sphinx  of  meaning  that  never  weathers.