Where once rolled lush, verdant pastoral meadows,
The mad modern mega-cities now stand jagged, dead and hollow,
For the endangered forest floor, not long ago leafy and log-locked,
Is now all cold worthless concrete and metal.
And where once rose great red wood, and wild dinosaurs,
Insane city subways now scream across the world,
For what’s left of Mother Nature once so wonderfully plentiful,
Can now be counted on one guilty human hand alone.
Yes, solely in the mind’s eye remains the only authentic oasis,
Still left for those fleeing these despised industrial hell holes,
For if one only dares drive deep enough, under heavy iron hides,
One will always find inside long-sought golden garden shells.
For only in optimism are we capable of such higher superhuman feats,
And only in imagination can we emancipate such heavily chained feet,
For if one just braves creativity, trading it in for the failures they meet,
One will be prepared for the best of everything capably conceived,
Yet when fleet street feet break away, escaping to big sky countrysides,
They usually can’t keep still long enough to save their own lives,
Expecting long red lights, and beggar lines at every corner,
Along with all of the chilling ill urban lifestyles.
And when country bumpkins pile into their station wagons,
To spend their days gawking at big city center attractions,
They gravitate toward the rustic haunts of familiar fashions,
Likened to hardwood taverns, and abandoned railway stations.
So its not the person’s place, but his or her proud purpose,
That persuades a hollow house, like a hopping home to feel,
And with likewise stubborn wills, tombs turn into towns,
And red beating fists, become high hearts’ songs fulfilled,
And life’s secondary circumstances shall not all assemble,
How one acts under anxiety, or where one’s will will fully fall,
But rather first principles of causation will always resemble,
How everyone’s ultimately their own captive captain universal.
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