Little we see out there that isn’t ours,
For the casted shadow of greed prevails;
Towards the light that we wholly devour
Our avarice remains true to trail;
And still the grizzled Tree stands tall, its roots
Deep in the sunken lea of buried vows;
It watches as we set ablaze our disputes,
Yet, unaffected, raises but a brow.
Anon come the end of all ambition,
Among the hollow depths of the Sea where
Lay sailors still lost in expedition
The shining gold, now dull, remains a prayer.
Yet is Gaia’s Nature what we cherish?
From within zephyrs, whispers of a tale,
For why wait until her brave lands perish,
Redemption beckons, if now we set sail.
Cover image: The Monk by the Sea, Painting by Caspar David Friedrich
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