Eulogy of a Failed Modernist
I love architecture
I love how human ingenuity
creeps into the details of a mundane life
to interrupt the banal
to reward the observant passerby.
I love the harmony hewn of the haphazard
the orderly hedgerow at the edge of the wild world.
White plaster against blue sky
relieved in shadow
stained in greens and browns by the living rain
Every time man touches earth
it is at once reunion and defiance.
born of soil we shape the world in our image.
We tailor her living tissues to our liking
nesting in her branches and bones
taking from her beauty
to birth a beauty of our own.
The discipline, the care. The excellence.
The dedication to the structures of our lives,
so that we may not only eat
But dine.
Not only live
But thrive.
At once nowhere and everywhere
those that house us scribe their unseen lines
over our comings and goings
orchestrating the gyrations of our lives
long after they are laid to rest.
Those that catch the passing vision of the future
long enough to bring it into form.
How I fell in love with them, the modernists.
Genius visionaries of a gilded age.
How I worshiped
at the temple of the self made man
of the villa estate
boxwoods to the horizon
a bold vision of a future perfect
clean of exigencies and maybe-nots.
An immaculate life.
Never shall I see again
the crisp corners of your fenestrated filigree
in quite the same clarity
in quite the same breathtaking reverence
as when I first glimpsed your floating planes
your slender columns
your impossibly unadorned surfaces.
To deny the persistence of gravity
to laugh in the face of death.
My gleaming innocence
the angles of my heart
have weathered a world less iconic.
Seeking timelessness, the structures of my life
carefully crafted from the plans of a passing age
crumble slowly into a rising sea
Come back, she says
come back to the place you know.
dance with me again.
Leave behind your spotless floors
but bring your eyes, beauty.
You hands, skillful one.
The new earth calls to you
from just beyond the cities’ glare
Can you hear her?
black mountain over silent lake
the stars are enough
let your eyes adjust
