there remains no monuments to our vanity no cenotaphs to subsumed glory buried by the weight of years we fashioned fate from the tyranny of thought and the failure of noble intent the failure of noble intent and the great river of our blood roars in protest tributaries swallowed by the grim god of silence the god of silence relentlessly we wove the skeins heedless of our doom lashing to our lives the promise of failure and i will build within myself a monument of flagellation i will silence my tongue and sacrifice myself to the empty vault of the firmament