We have been wandering.
Sneaking peeks at a past we 
Believed we could have had.
Through graffitied concrete walls we try
To glimpse into gaps, picking at
Loose mortar to open the cracks.
What can we find?
An expected jewel that may
Work to recover forgotten
Visions? All striving for our
Former glory--these have passed
To the exclusion of learned
Vanities.  That the passing time
Is fragile, reflecting how long
We've attempted to conjure
The heights from which we
See that we stand above
All perishable creation.
What questions should be asked?
Where is our resting place?
When should our striving be
Crowned? Then, we find
All our eyes have been searching
not for surety, but that
We continue to move. Our
Tired journeys find their aim
In a series of departures from
Our own gain.