Standing on the shores of
A prehistoric sea.
What will it ought to be
In the diverging path from the past?
Man made land
From a line of sand.
No wonder the beauty won’t last.
Strolling on the shores of
What used to be a spot
Where the devils will not
Dare to even show presence with eyes.
But it’ll be down the line
If the machines will confine
The nature to the altering of despise.
An upcoming city boom on
An extinction for the zoom on
The invisible bloody stain.
Your industry is my poison.
We latch onto a double-edged cliff.
We engage in a war of fates,
For the purpose of an unreplayed riff.
Two leaders of two very different sides
Clash for the first time in the age.
Our book of relations is always closed,
Even if we unlawfully turn the page.
Gazing upon a new, raw stone
I can only dream
Of the last unbroken beam
Shattered in an everlasting manner.
Will it be forever gone
Or is it just new lawn?
Every plan can do without a planner.
Waging a conflict without skills to be hone
Yet I still choose to fight.
Whether it’s wrong or right,
I will bring back this land of environmental love.
I have been blessed with will,
But incoming gold haunts me still.
I’ll turn to the spiritual sun from above.
Under the gaze of the sea
I will gain what I wish was lost.
Over the height of the flea,
I’ll freeze away the frost.
Your poison is my industry.
Natural hazards aren’t a thing.
We wield a triple-edged sword,
With the third blade without a ring.
We will never dare to agree,
But deep inside there’s a coupled goal.
We won’t knock down our own tower,
But we’d build our beneficial pole.
We both won’t dare to back down,
At least that’s how we agree.
So we’ll divide this path equally
And let our own side be our crown.
Copyright© 2018 Gerry Kramer.
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