in older days we were not fazed
to tarnish precious coins of time;
to drain the sea, to turn our cheek
with faith in opaque lies.

the mines were dug, the grids were plugged
in endlessly. we erased all thoughts of ends.
beyond our reach, the future breached
filthy seafoam; surely not the fault of men.

the warp & woof of history
met blades sharp with centuries
(inevitably).

there was laughter when we saw the tide -
now "..." grows where green has

died.