We are the rise and fall of cities
So carelessly demanded
Sheathed by night
Gilded with stars that lend us
The illusion that our world
Is still whole and beautiful
What a cyclical facade
This seems to be
All faded tones of rose and gold
From our first light
To the fall of the last empire
We are but wounds
If I end up using this, and you, my teacher whose last name starts with a K, are reading this, then yes! I did actually write this. It's inspired by Borges and Rilke (especially his poem "Landscape"; pg. 109 in the book you lent me). This poem actually means something too.