Far away from city life and murmur, sings the forest.
Trees will grow out of streets shake asphalt off branches.
In stillness, the forest will cover land and aeons will pass in
tranquility until small antlike people appear from caves,
hairy monsters covered in shit. They will clear woods, make
dwellings and they will kill animals in the forest, plant, corn
and harvest death. And a society will arise, one that knows
nothing of the past. When they have time, invent love and
think they are the only ones who have the capability to feel
empathy. Invent the alphabet, write sentimental love songs
extolling their virtuousness, then cover the land in asphalt.
But as always, if you listen, the forest sings a dirge.