Human history is rife with the landmark fantasy
The master’s vanity reach for the sky and even now to lower-space
From the Egyptian’s pyramids for which we have found no other purpose yet
To our fragile steel and glass temples of personality that may not fare well in time
But to the ants of human scale that we are, the hill exerts a certain fascination
The belief in some superior force that builds for eternity, be it for just a few centuries
But as the masters and their giant egos rise like hot-air balloons to the sky
We are given shovels to dig ourselves into our graves
Photo Hugh Ardoin The Urban Landscapes Gallery