Laughter once sprang from the children of the village,
until the profit arrived to collect his dollar
Tears could even indulge a lovers quarrel
with it's chorus of sobs and whimpers

From dust to sand,
sand to glass,
broken rock to steel,
molded in concrete,
marriages are made overnight
Once a rose may have even rose,
from the once living earth here,
if only just for one day
Evicted by a new landlord,
because its beauty was too high a price,
to tender the rights of the land
Perhaps a new rose will grow,
display it's beauty,
them within a short time,
wither and die
But the masterpiece
funded by the man
with deep pockets
will remain for longer,
the dollars taxed daily
Ah yes,
but can the mans concrete creations carry time,
the way a rose on a thin stalk
carries the weight of nature
Can his masterpieces colour a lovers heart
or dull the painful loss of someone dear
Does his contribution to the economy
celebrate birth and death
or love and suffering
Perhaps,
in some way,
ah but nature has no mortgage attached to it,
not the way the land has

So I continue to look out the window of the train,
bowing quietly to small untouched mountains
Acknowledging the fast fading undulation
of life's rocky roads,
before they too surrender
to the weight of progress
And as I do,
I am reminded that the train carries us all
along on times rails
Until one day,
like the fast vanishing landscape
we will have to either get off
or make our final stop forever,
and in doing so,
allow another passenger to ride the rails of life,
just as we have done before.

 

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