The poisoned hill.

"Why?" I ask.
The building responds
with stony silence.
The dark, unflinching, empty

silence

of the void.
It mocks me.
It mocks us all.
In its silence is the answer:
"There is no reason."
Why do we listen to the void?
How can we listen to the void?
How is its silence louder than
the screams of history?
If only man could remember,
and avoid.

Christian