The plains of the highlands were dry
Succulents, monsoons, morning dew
Arid land yet perched homes near the sky
Some existence simply making due

The string and the tether
Something more than ever
A clear sky, no weather
This longing for better

Storms see the means
Clouds reconvene
Darken the sky
Electrify

The people they flee
Escape travesty
Flashes as scores strike the ground
Pelting rain, deafening sound

Everything built
Falls too fast
Usurpers of
Our mother’s throne

Years of nature
To atone
Green she creeps
Now she’s alone

Of failure,
Forgotten, unknown