Look at these, then. I’d have you see them.
These are all that’s left of the Acropolis at Rhodes, in modern Greece. For nearly 2500 years, they have stood. They were built to support temples and wonders, and they did. Through fires and wars and empires and ages. They did more than support those temples and wonders, though. They outlasted them. They remained behind as a reminder of the people whose worship they facilitated. Long after the things they held up had fallen and crumbled and vanished, they remained. After the coats of paint and layers of outer stoned had started to fall away, they stayed strong. They stood through storms of every sort – natural and human – and they’ve retained their integrity.
You could, if you wanted, use them now. These, the proud skeletons of long dead columns and arches and beauty in architecture, are still functional. They stood. They stand. They are dependable, and true, and trustworthy. They are beautiful and blunt and ancient and vital and somehow still inviting, all these ages later.
If I can be anything in this life, for myself and the people I love, I hope I can be a pillar.