Their headstones now have sunken into sand,
amid tall weeds, some cholla, scattered sage,
the writing visible, but not at hand.
Their years among the dead compose my age.
That which they did was well done, be it said.
Their journey, both of reason and ideal,
was beautiful, if odd—one step ahead,
one back, advancing in a commonweal
by indirection and the stars. Regret
was rare. They tacked across the desert, found
a pleasant harbor of the mind, and set
their talents and devotion in the ground
like trees. They left again, the port unknown.
Few can appreciate their legacy.
I mark their goodness on the fallen stone
and wave my handkerchief in memory.
Dear Reader,
Can I be direct with you?
War abroad. Socialists on the rise. AI upending human life. Endless uproar online. The modern attention economy doesn’t want readers — it wants users enslaved to the tyranny of the present.
First Things is the antidote: literary excellence, timeless truths, and a fixed point of reference in a culture that has lost its bearings.
But we can’t do it without readers like you.
Our goal: Raise $150,000 by November 1 to sustain First Things in the year ahead.
Your gift anchors readers in the permanent things.
Make your Fall Campaign gift now using the button below.
If you have any questions or would like more information, please contact Giovanni Del Piero, Director of the Editor’s Circle, at gdelpiero@firstthings.com or 212-627-1985.
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