In rows they stand,
Locked in patterns, one after the other.
In the field they are one mass of land,
Stalwart in their stance, as similar to their neighbor as to their mother.
Within the fiery skies above their planted heads,
In lanes unmarred by planned similarity, flies a beast cast of a different die.
Black as night, with wings of smoke; within those fiery skies they fly.
There you will find me.

In lines one by one,
Single file on either side of tamed nature,
Grazing along black river avenues, stand carefully planned hovels beneath the sun.
They are faceless, markedly lacking the unique touch of artistry to mature.
While crowded entities parade upon the market,
Great amphibious royalty croon ancient songs to the land around,
Gifting the night with the grand chaos of their sound.
There you will find me.

Not content to face bitter winds upon modern lanes,
A dweller of the urban landscape seeks out that which most abstain.
Deep in the dark hollows, where the gods of yesterday lie within still,
A fool seeks sanity amongst the ancestral beings who, within these spaces fill.
In the shadows of the great old ones,
Reveling in the divine lost amidst human progress,
There you will find me.