The orb within the sky doth shine its ray,
From God does come the root of every day.
Yet man does own his glory, also great,
Where such doth lie, a subject of debate.
Alas, the answer here in glory lies,
A beauty here, that riseth to the skies!
The word of gold sublime upon the stone,
Doth show the world the glory which we own!
Majestic columns stand to lift the sky,
They do support the majesty of time.
A land that rose upon the ancient truth,
A nation strong, imbibed such written truth.
They built a structure white and gold, sublime,
To hold the greatest riches of all time.
Its name doth speak so little of its grace,
Its majesty surrounds and fills its place-
No mask can hide the beauty lying here,
No word can match the glory or the fear.
Indeed in such a temple to the wise,
Its fall or loss, mankind would ere despise.
It holds the glory lost across the sea,
And speaks of greater glory soon to be.
As tall Minerva stands and holds the scroll,
The gold and white cascade upon the wall!
A sky so gold and brilliant roofs her head,
As man does worship her, though she is dead.
The light of knowledge holds a bitter dark,
As faith does flee, one builds another ark.
The glory held in majesty sublime
Does speak corruption in a newer time.
As Greece we worship knowledge, Rome, the games,
Yet still we are so blind to their last days.
Corruption lies in wait to end our might,
And still destruction lies beyond our sight!
Our faith, the very cornerstone of life-
Decays and rusts away upon our strife.
The life not worth a cause is not sublime,
The loss of glory doth corrupt the mind.
This building stands so white in majesty-
It sayeth naught of those whose lives are free!
Too free to see the glory known in death,
Too wise for wisdom, lost in fear of death.
This rock now stands, to bring a faith in thought,
And yet, it is destroyed, its gold for naught!
The glory here speaks well upon our prize,
A freedom linked with wisdom in our eyes!
A goal for those who do not fear the end,
But rather search for where, their life, to send!
Here stands the temple for the wisest man,
Whose life is bent, to find what ere he can,
To find the glory lost in newer time,
To see and speak new beauty unto rhyme.
His day will come, a time so blessed to see,
Then he as I, to glory bows the knee.