What happened, Mr. Fisk?

Many decades gone.
You tower over peers.
Handsome, staid, intrepid.
Sublime, seen from a distance.

But distance is deception.
Proximity deteriorates.
Betraying raw reality.
A less than flattering view.

O captain, where is your empire?
Your belching chimneys fueled.
Your glory and your city.
Crumbling to heaps, ignored.

The legion you commanded.
Gone without a trace.
They lived, they fought, they’re dust.
Grass that overgrows domain.

Yet, in their commander’s repose.
A faint shadow persists.
Only nearly forgotten.
A respite from obscurity, purchased.

Here, fanfare is silence.
Songbirds in distant melody.
With Satan’s drone, a leaf blower.
Entwined in dissonant chorus.

Evidence of your exploits.
Power, might and strength.
No shield for despair.
The baby cradles dandelions.

Yet in dark recesses
Life does not abate.
Your family dwells in chambers
Where groundhogs tend their own.

In granite stands your legacy.
Permanence, impermanent.
When Earth does boil and fume.
All rise, smoke, to firmament.