Ancestral voices prophesying war! / The shadow of the dome of pleasure / Floated midway on the waves; / Where was heard the mingled measure / From the fountain and the caves.
Brick by brick they built it, towering up to the sky; a marvel of pure verticality. The minaret, the world’s tallest was a shining symbol to believers that we may come from the Earth, but are destined for the heavens. But now, centuries later, that minaret, long since eclipsed in height, and whose symbolism is forgotten, stands lonely among a sea of modern minarets; modern monstrosities. The modern minaret, put together quickly from steel, towers into the sky, but the microwave radiation spawning from its maniacal structure is a symbol of pure horizontality in the reign of quantity. No longer does the muezzin shout the beautiful call to prayer; Instead, the modern minaret pulses out ones and zeros calling the mindless, robot, masses to pray with their worn our fingers and burnt out eyes to the only god— they know— the god of the machine, presiding over the church of the phone.