Abandoned factories reach up to god.
Outside them lay a forest undisturbed,
Choked by smog it struggled still to grow,
Like armies camped around enemy walls,
Waited for the weight of years to fall.
And as I passed within its maze I asked
Out into the silent afternoon:
Who will stand victorious in time,
And which of these shall be the first to go?
How soon will they then be discarded if
A suitable replacement can be found?
If that philosophy stands too for me,
Have I already seen the tree from which
The wood that will hold me forever comes?