Honor

A long time ago, Qin Shi Huang built me to keep others out and his own in. My stones came from a distant quarry in a forgotten valley. Thousands worked to pile my brick organs high. Inch by inch, mile by mile, fathers, sons, uncles, and brothers labored with sweat, but no tears, to lengthen my far reaching arms and legs. Across these Yellow lands flowing with silk and fire dragons, they stretched me out, like interrogation on the racks. Together, with the final stone laid, their arms and legs, stomachs and hearts, brains and eyes leaked together inside my rippling sediment in a primordial soup to create my beating soul which fills with pride from their own bodies, to know that I am made of my people, and together, life and limb, we protect them. Never say honor is the prize of fools.