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Who will we blame when there's nothing left,

When roots are severed, left to wither with the dirt.

When weathered walls true to form are long bereft of thought.

Memory salvaged, tales taught.

Structures speak of poignancy beyond their time,

Built on foundations of hardship and stern design,

The brittle truth that stone is often all that can remain,

The legacy of architecture forges undying fame.

Strong and unyelielding, am I,

Valiant and true, I shine,

Many can wonder, many can question,

how will I stand the test of time.

What will we worship when culture fails,

When years uncounted come to nothing, a disappearing dream,

If all that we have left to teach is modernity's ill will,

a painting of an age stood still,

A vital bond of man and Earth once ruled the day,

before dismal dissolution led those estray,

a building of the pyre, a forging of the steel,

committed union turning wheel,

Strong and unyelielding am I,

Valiant and true I shine,

Many can wonder many can question,

how will I stand the test of time.

The voice of withered stone,

The horn of heritage blown,

Roots of identity sewn,

speech through presence known.