As the breeze wafts through
The branches of this tree spattered land,
He wonders what has been before,
Here where he is, On This Ground.

As his mind wanders back
He begins to ponder; what is
The farthest stretch he can
Imagine, it is nearly impossible
To picture a world vomiting its
Innocent contents and a sky
Black with ammonia and methane
Here, On This Ground

And he imagines the bold warriors
Of the past; In bright armor
On beautiful feathers, and it
Saddens him to think of their
Demise, but he realizes that all
Things pass, On This Ground