Where to hath the seasons travelled?
Gone are the greens of Spring, the autumnal reds, oranges, browns;
The beauty of Chaos quelled by our endless oppression.
A certain path discovered, with all futures unravelled,
Taken are the colours of change, taken and drowned;
In a sea of greys and greys, of the great monoliths of progression.
Even the stars we manage
To change; so few and so close that we feel their electric warmth.
Behind the walls of advancement does the horizon cower,
Unseen by the moving man, undreamt are those dreams ravaged;
Nevermore are the words uttered "discover, go, go forth!"
For our futures lie within these walls, to ascend, ascend our 'sacred' tower.
And the stars dim and die each day,
Giving way to the shaded days.
How curious our inverse lifestyle,
Unseen, unrealised in our blurred seasonless haze.
But dream, if you can.
Dream of somewhere our gaze has yet settled, in all our grotesque scrutiny.
Yet untouched, unmarred by the dissatisfied evolutions of man.
That someday the eyes of the innocent onlooker might bear witness
To her perfect imperfections.
The ferocious intensity of nature's violent power,
And may they stand in awe of her utter beauty,
In fear of her infinite might. And in those moments
Of pure serenity, may they know bliss; and feel nature's resplendence.
So when we tame the untameable,
Clip the buds of the asymmetrical flower,
And the grand spectrums of the seasons dull into our blurry contentedness;
May the damp eyes of the onlooker at last come to realise…
This is our new world.