They rest all over
whilst I was rooted to the ground,
the water acting like superglue
as my limbs stretched out.

Towards the clumps of land
rods of steal and wood weaved,
to connect and *****
that which we call humanity.

But there were abuse on the rods
formed by hands who'd calloused hearts,
poison coursing through their veins,
but not a single thought was given
for they were innocent in their brain.

Said limbs and rods spiraled out,
as nothing was left to chance,
intertwining everyone's destiny
in majestic flare and grace, grand
like a ballerina's dance.

But the poison was too corrosive,
the termites were too much,
as everything eroded, imploded,
crumbled and buried under
mounds of earth.

But today is different,
a new beginning, a new life.
As if the gods have willed
something better to arrive.

Indeed they came: Ports
forged from purity anew,
where fresh legs are delivered
and old legs whisked away.
For no matter how dark it
was, is, will be,
even during the night,
there always is and will be
a pip of light.