I crave it so very desperately,
that sanguine soil road, and innocence lost
amidst the gilded Iowa cornfields,
the Montana panorama potent
enough to strike even the Gods senseless,
the virile plethora of Juniper
as it falls with each chill seasoned passing
.
Where has the hope listlessly wisped away,
carrying along with it the genius
of mundane things in our humanity,
and all things under the sun we appraised
as it were precious only to our need
In a sense, I, we are lost to devise
our personal eulogy for Earth's demise