It's an old truth that all towers fall.
Everything we build, we build from rubble.
Even the first stone was fractured from a child
of a star. With our fingernailed hands
we placed it on the altar of the world.
This is the root of ritual: to build a religion
of work. Babel's foundation is laid first
in the mind. A design translating the world
into terms we understand, into heavy things
we cast out into reason's borderlands.
We built with these stones of the mind,
laid with disciplined precision, with wills bent
toward a distant and unseen goal. Perhaps
our great sin was not in our attempt to reach God
but in foolishly imagining heaven
to be so close by.