America

With outreaching hands I traverse continents,
Reigning missiles to falsehoods in the hope
That my machinations will conceive of a movement
So pure in intention, so honest in expression,
That for a moment I will have the peace of a vacuum
Freed from the perpetual rumble of time.
And all who bear witness shall say:
"Hark! For we cannot give enough in our fervor
For you, America, for you we shall consume and die,
Until nothing can block the sun from warming
Your gleaming glass house."