I am a builder
Mortaring together bricks
Putting up walls already marked
Scrawled over
Tagged
The bricks themselves
Vandalism
Marring what had been pristine
But how often is the pure noticed
How often that which is untouched seen
How much remains pure and pristine
Because it is not noticed
As soon as seen
Marred and marked and made other than it was
And not always for the better
Or even perhaps often
The structures I build are ephemeral
Existing only so far as they are seen
Taking other forms when not
If there are other forms for them to take
Moving more quickly to decay than others
But not more certainly
For what is built of brick
Or stone
Or concrete and steel
That will not pass away
It is as the old poet wrote
Again and again
Þæs ofereode
Þisses swa mæg
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