Passing Time

When the spring time arrives

The trees bloom with excitement.

Just a small sapling,

Made of tenuous bark.

A cycle forged a millennium ago.

Now, I am surrounded by a graveyard of those old trees,

The corpse of them lies silent.

A steel monster harvested them like a farmer collecting crops.

The murder is happening in our faces yet we do nothing.

Now distant future we can see,

A world of darkness and doom.

Like a frightening nightmare

Enough to keep you up at night.

So let's prevent this dream

And clear the future.