City of Life

Our city bustles with life, under the hot sun, one wall parting us from the city of death, from the pyramids we build, carving stone from sand, creating wonders for Kings and gods, and sometimes we wonder if we will be remembered too, and sometimes we just think of today, as we work under the sun, chiselling and grinning, or meet friends at the fruit stall, or flirt with the vendors over apples and bread, of dates and figs, of scarves and silk from afar on market day, and our pockets are full, even if our craft is never credited.