August 27, 2009

Home

On a walk, take it with me friend,
Enter a door, not like those found,
On the entryways of those common.

Walk with me, up the brick path,
beneath our feet, a feat of clinker,
Marvellous, stupendous, sound.

Through a threshold milled to perfection,
glass hiding secrets and others unknown,
Glass made to hide faces both firm yet calm.

Feel the wood creak, beneath your feet,
smell the work of craftsmen past,
Carefully place your hat and coat away.

See our great hall, inlaid with precious things,
feel the glass hiding tomes of years past,
Sit with me, and feel the aura of glory.

Upstairs a runner, this path we should take,
riding high and low and silent it should make,
More secrets lie here, behind closed doors and locks.

Beyond the building, beyond the work,
the men here certainly do take,
The work to work by which is our sake.

Sweep and dust
Mop and wash
Hoe and till
Cut and dig

No longer are we friends,
since this journey we did take,
Blood brothers we are for this house's sake.

Home to many, and still to them all,
from past to still active,
Our home, Sigma Phi.

-Zach Wong.

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