To left, howling wind crosses

scorching land, incinerating any

chance at life before it

begins

To the right, ancient trees

proudly protect the lesser life

beneath them, green harbor of

shade.

And I stand between the two,

one foot on either side of

an invisible line, a line of mixing

green and gold

Tendrils of plants stretch into

the wasteland, each inch farther, lost

is another shade of green until

all that remains is brown

The winds slam into the great

gaurdians, but for every barrier

they pass, another springs up

to weaken its murderous intent.

The balance is formed, the balance is held

neither side permiting the other to grow

a constant tension that rules the border

between two lands.