Land

The land my son is a fruit of eternity

ideologies will wither away with the clicking clock of time

civilization will dwindle to dust

like meteorite hurriedly passing

from nowhere to somewhere not here.

Pyramid constant like gravity itself

will break down into desert sand

living tombs of pharaoh covered only

by the umbrella of sky itself.

Future will be interwoven with the past.

The land my son will remain the fruit of eternity.