Aroura

Man heard a rumor that all had been seen
The wreckage from pasts, towards a future unclean
He built yes, upon the ruins he steps on as he passes
Though the gardens would not grow between the heaped, metallic masses

Man heard a murmur from the future, no longer unseen
Breaking his maintained heart, for the gardens still hadn't been
And he cried, then more as they died within tainted dirt floors
For no matter how much steel he placed the flowers refuse, and sprout no more

Man cried to the heavens, wishing for change in the land, in the air
But the cries were replaced with a black-smoke cough, a sign of death it seemed
"For all I build over these lands that I dare to take!" They screamed.
"Why is it the simplest of life that I cannot -with these earth-changing hands- make?"

A great tree rose to hold Man close, embracing him too close for air
For around their throats it's mighty roots grew, and there screams did blare!
"With what stone I touch deep below, it's not life you cannot make
And now the great monuments you chose to make will be man's self-built coffin for the dying earth's sake!"