New Byzantium
©Richard Hodges 2016
What
is this village, built up not so long ago?
Whose
walls, though crude, of mud and sticks,
Stand
proud, as if they were the walls of high Byzantium,
Enclosing,
like those older walls, great shining things
Of
gold and porphyry. And Men whose meditations
Nearly
touch the hem of God…but these are rare,
One
hardly finds them, hidden in the crush
Of
commerce, power, greed, false words.
It
is the way of cities to grow great, and then corrupt,
And
then the hordes will batter at their walls
And
bring them down, never guessing in their war-lust
What
holy greatness they destroy.
Is
this new village fated to reprise that death?
Will
there survive a love-song,
Telling
us again how Man and God
Here
consummated their affair?
.