I saw the tree bend with old age
The replica of earthly strain
Where no-mans-land inflicts
Replacement and derisions pain
By desired artifices of yesterday.
Was superiority the negative
To each of mans fleeting reigns?
Humanity’s long dead tendrils
Wrapping between ache and sprain
For what? Better, bluer shores?
The callus crumbling hands
The descriptive greed and chains
Formed with individual materialism,
Forgetting gia, a mother feigned,
For Keeping us to her bosom.
The grass is always greener
Because the fix heightens arcane
Colours and dulls that coming future,
I saw the replica of heaven wane
And the earth destroyed in our name.