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Literature Text
Light used to be this lands blessing
Raining down from the sky above
Even after the sun had run its course.
There was a time in the past
When the time of night was not meant to be feared
But was meant to be enjoyed by all who cared to glance skyward.
Then it happened, the great immigration
Abodes were built up, great civilizations
sprang from what seemed like nothing.
The voices of the people roared in gladness, in prosperity
They became prideful, and lit up the night with their
Inventions born of the sands of the beaches and the metals of the earth.
I've watched their progression, their every move
I've watched the stars disappear one by one
And I've wept for their ignorance and apathy.
Woe unto this great nation,
For they have blotted out the very leaders that guided them
To this land of promise and opportunity, this land of dreams.
And now, with the sinking of the sun
Emerge demons in the shape of men
For without the beacons of the heavens, there will always be places of murkiness
Where the monsters lie in wait to ensnare the innocent wanderer
And suffer them to its devices, whether it be the purloining of life
Or the despoiling of that which is precious above all else.
Woe unto this nation,
For they have cast in their lots, emptied the sky above them
Degraded the greatest painting, the celestial tapestry.
Raining down from the sky above
Even after the sun had run its course.
There was a time in the past
When the time of night was not meant to be feared
But was meant to be enjoyed by all who cared to glance skyward.
Then it happened, the great immigration
Abodes were built up, great civilizations
sprang from what seemed like nothing.
The voices of the people roared in gladness, in prosperity
They became prideful, and lit up the night with their
Inventions born of the sands of the beaches and the metals of the earth.
I've watched their progression, their every move
I've watched the stars disappear one by one
And I've wept for their ignorance and apathy.
Woe unto this great nation,
For they have blotted out the very leaders that guided them
To this land of promise and opportunity, this land of dreams.
And now, with the sinking of the sun
Emerge demons in the shape of men
For without the beacons of the heavens, there will always be places of murkiness
Where the monsters lie in wait to ensnare the innocent wanderer
And suffer them to its devices, whether it be the purloining of life
Or the despoiling of that which is precious above all else.
Woe unto this nation,
For they have cast in their lots, emptied the sky above them
Degraded the greatest painting, the celestial tapestry.
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Because it's hard to skywatch in the suburbs.
Comments3
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Oh, a fellow engineer-poet I see! 
Such a paradox it is, that although we are the ones who create technology and should therefore take pride of what is "our child" - we still hate it from the bottom of our hearts. Because there is always that bad feeling behind everything we make, that with it we took something away from Nature's Beauty and Balance.
Such a paradox it is, that although we are the ones who create technology and should therefore take pride of what is "our child" - we still hate it from the bottom of our hearts. Because there is always that bad feeling behind everything we make, that with it we took something away from Nature's Beauty and Balance.