A Conflict of Interests

The merciless sun beat

on their heads

until beads of sweat rolled

down their necks.

The architects climbed the

sandhill asking,

“Why are the winds

whisking sand

onto our building?”

“What can we do

to save our creation?”

Relentlessly they trudged

up the crest

of the hill.

“Look at the beauty

of our crowning achievement...

Soon, our masterpiece

will be swallowed up.”

Mounting the apex,

they surveyed the land.

Seven lonely souls,

like dust on the scales

of the macrocosm,

sand in their ears,

nostrils,

eyes,

and teeth,

they called out to the Universe…

“Why are you doing this?

You are ruining

the work of our hands.

We've spent years

designing,

planning,

and creating

this glorious edifice,

and you are decimating it.”

The wind laughed

at the puny mortals.

I,

am ruining

your

creation?

I

have put up with

your pollution,

wars,

greed

and excess

for eons.

You have stolen lands,

razed forests,

and fornicated

the Word.

Who are you,

to question

me?

The wind

whipped up the sand

into a Dust devil

that shrouded

the men

and swallowed up

their work of vanity.

“From dust you are,

and to dust

you will return,”

whispered the wind.