How strangely open this city lies momentarily,
How is she so wondrous and light:
The houseless streets run
From nothing to nothing – not disrupted anyway.
The sky shines like never before
on where centuries of construction disappeared –
Summer has not lost its shine,
The sun shone like she’s always shone.
One goes in inner retreat
Commemmorating what it has been like,
and surprisingly finds oneself
shocked far less than shy.
Do not complain. As always gardens blossom
over impermanence and sorrow:
A shepherd rests currently
on the ruins of Babylon and Niniveh.