You built your city upon a whim.

And long your city stood.

And long your obedient subjects served their capricious queen

with bent knees and bowed heads

and humble hearts.

Until

one day

you tore your city down

revealing the truth:

monuments

thought built of stone

were made of feathers.

Your temple

all those long years

balanced upon nothing more

than dust.

Now

after sifting through the rubble of your kingdom

of our past

we see

that which was always there…

nothing.

Now

in this barren space

we must decide what to do.

So, tell me,

what are we to do

in the aftermath

of you?