All these brittle towers
are broken,
These saints are coming down.
A fine mess, dear,
those crumbled statues
of your former glory
by your feet
where the weeds dare not grow.

and wanting.

'Some men are born mediocre,
Some men achieve mediocrity...'

It's inscribed in the mausoleum wall,
the one at the base of the hill
where your father died.

The last part is left off for youto consider.
But you think these things are seldom worth
the sense they make.