The tower which was once is gone, brought down, it's said,
By incoherence. In what would have been its shadows,
Among broken bricks and chunks of plaster, knots
Of people circle fires warding off the cold. At each,
Another tongue is heard. From none does anybody
Wander, curious to understand what's being said in
Other circles. Nothing spreads across the plain
To fire all the minds at once. Instead, the words
Of those who dwell apart from any circle's flame
Are labeled "babel," as once was the tower which
Is gone.