A Future Shrouded by History

Our caustic, concrete, towers loom,

The ones that shard, shatter and shake.

They are the shadows that conquer all too soon,

Destroying the intrinsic purity of nature’s scape.

Such wealthy hands plough such barren land,

Ecosystems rapture, tumble and quake.

Smokey ash plagues the streets where nature spanned.

How I wish for a future not shrouded in histories wake.

Stories tell of a pinpricked sky, and twilight sails,

Etherial light, emerald leaves and lustre.

Maybe just the platitudes my childhood fairy tales,

Because I see nothing here such imagination could muster.

For I wish of the world they spoke of in such histories.

Nature free of steel shadows and swirling ash.

One of enigmatic skies, silhouettes of mountains and mysteries. 

Dancing light in jade canopies. Leaves like a lace dash.

For when my mind precariously tumbles through sleep,

History’s scope crafts dreams and worlds of fiction.

Galloping lakes, crystal skies, opal waves so deep. 

If only reality held the pasts’ resplendent depiction.