Touch me. Don't be afraid. I can't hurt you. Go ahead and touch my smooth surface. Feel the cold, glass-like smoothness and the crevices and lines that make me what I am. Use both hands if you wish. We are more similar than you dare to believe.
Touch my face. Yes, I have a face like yours. It has weathered the centuries as yours has the years. My face portrays my evolution. Yours, the birth and death of a generation. My face has aged like yours as we have endured together the testimony of earth's elements.
I have eyes like yours. My inscriptions stare out at you as I search for the meaning of why we are here. I look into your eyes and see who you are. Who am I? I was formed millions of years past and now you see the results of my evolution.
I can feel your hands and the sweat from your palms flow into the countless combination of the letters that make me. I know you. I have known you since I was able to breathe in the air as my smoothness began to take shape and my color matured along with natural flaws. You have known me since the days when you came to take me from my mother.
You cannot hear me. I am static and unmoving. But, I can hear your murmurs and your cries of pain and sadness. Your sons and daughters ask why? There are no answers. I am very old. I have seen everything and I am none the wiser for the pain and suffering I have witnessed since I rose from the bowels of the earth. I have witnessed the conflict, the death, the civilizations, and the societies that have come before you. Yet I remain mystified about this day.
I feel sad yet alive with a purpose. I have come to know those who are now an integral part of the reason for my being here at this place and time. That purpose has become apparent as I stand before you on this day while your brethren gather to witness my reflections and the changes of light that mirror your soul.
I am a reflection of you . . .
I am all of you . . .
I am your spirit . . .
I am The Wall.