Some of the molding surrounding this world
is now horribly chipped and turning grey.
Time has come for some renunciation.
Much beauty has flown, seeds no longer sown.
Seems participants are on vacation.
The dust of all that’s passed will surely last
until it’s swept away, and even then,
some hangers-on will still insist to stay
to be part of history’s striation.
The aim of reconstruction’s future dreams
is oft to thwart destruction’s aged schemes.
The days are passing, cast toward rising seas.
But infrastructure’s down upon its knees.
It’s at the breaking point. Time help us, please.