THE MANHATTAN PENTAGONAL PROJECT
A Tribute To Fallen Angels

Alloy sharks hurl headlong from the ethereal morning sky,

full of sound and fury, and signifying nothingness,

breaking into smoldering myriad pieces and melting minds of millions,

splintering hopes into flying shards of acrid glass and ashen rubble,

stirring clouds of smoke, and ultimately signifying nothing.

The sorrow and the spirit, the spite and the might,

linger right in the astonishing wasteland ruins at ground zero.

These are the kamikaze effects of desperate madmen,

playing simultaneously in a poison orchestra,

whose conductor lingers gesticulating nothing in far off hills.

Dawn comes slowly to the rich shaken City,

which awakens anew with girders of courage, laden now with

heroism, cranes, shovels and fragile flickering candles.

Yes, amazing miracles do happen in the elevator flight to the bottom,

while down down to bottomless perdition,

go the winged guilty who dare to defy the omnipotent to arms,

there to dwell in adamantine chains and penal fire,

their futile acts in the end spent, signifying absolutely nothing. 

Bryan Davis

September 2001