Girders groan in the wind; the building bends,
adapting to its environment,
spire scoring the heavens, but roots in earth:
The future connects to the past, as sky to the ground.

A skeleton of steel or nanotubes
would still be recognized by engineers
in Rome; physics doesn’t change over time.
Girders groan in the wind; the building bends—

Yet the people inside never feel it,
detached from the outside world. Eagles
nest on the roof, hunting rats below; they’re
adapting to the new environment.

Windows serve as solar panels, collect
light to feed the needs of residents; walls
of plant membrane scrub carbon from the air.
Spire scoring the heavens, but roots in earth,

No matter how far we ascend, we’re still
bound to our home, our mother’s domicile.
Brick or marble, concrete, glass, or steel—
the future connects to the past, as sky to the ground.