Go build your cities fine and build them high.
Roll out your concrete blanket over the hills.
Push up commercial temples to the sky,
The great God progress granted you the skills.
Go build your plastic palaces of fun,
And fling your space ships out to the stars,
Until the last triumphant race is won
And all the earth is disfigured by your scars.
But man, be ruled by caution as you go;
For if you leave alive one tiny seed,
A drop of rain, and place for it to grow,
You will not notice such a puny weed.
You will not notice how the rising breeze
Begins to stir the surface of the sand.
Or how the gentle kissing of the seas
Begins the slow erosion of the land.
So when you see the first cracks appear
To herald the destruction of your dream.
Remember, as you crouch beneath your fear,
The worm, in patient vigil reigns supreme.
Note to Patrick. What’s mine is mine. Just remember, my plagiarism detector is always switched to the “ON” mode. . . . just saying.