A Vast Barren Wasteland

A single bird flies over the vast barren wasteland,

The frozen plain, empty of life, an eerie vacuum.

It inspects the ground below, desperately searching,

Searching for a scrap of food, for relief, relief from

It’s seemingly perpetual, consuming hunger.

Yet all it finds are the ruins of a past glory.

The bird flies away, as it does a single feather

Floats down on what man once built in their glorious pride.

Yet as they gave it life, they slowly, ignorantly,

Killed both it, and the surrounding land as well, until

all that is left in the wake of its fall, is the cold,

Vast barren wasteland, not a single essence of life

The bird flies, weak, desperately searching for any food.

Yet all life is gone, and very slowly it grows weaker,

Until it falls, the last essence of life in the plain,

Falls and plummets, digging itself into the dead dirt,

And what was once a gloriously beautiful plain,

Is now the ruins of mans’ glory, A vast barren

wasteland, a frozen plain, empty of life, cold as death.