Water flash floods, over desiccated earth,
Red clay, cracked, reaches to the sky, impervious
Lacking the permeability of loam
The blessing of rain is lost to barren
Lands their stunted trees, twisted by the wind, pock marked, and withered
Bounty must await more rain to salve the harrow

Fallow fields, great civilizations hunger, the harrow
A fragile balance, the broken ecology of Earth
Overrun, gassed, and withered
The masses reproducing, consuming, impervious
Traded the abundance for barren
Landscapes which never turned detritus to loam

Ameliorate my heart, enriching loam
Long years of drought and ceaseless harrow
Gasping, tilled with rust stained tools, barren
Churning immeasurable sorrows upon the earth
Song of my inner wilds long impervious
To the once pregnant myth that lies withered

The oak at the gateway to the immortal, withered
Crumbled towers of loam
The gate is barred, impervious
Transcendent vultures cannot harrow
Volcanic, desolate earth
Calling into existence days barren

Art looses its power, healing words are barren
Diaphanous choirs of angels, cherubim and seraphim, withered
Glory turned blind upon the Earth
I build a dwelling place with loam
To carve a niche, survive the circumscribing harrow
Hecate declares all crossroads closed, impervious

Turning to each other impervious
All connection severed, irrigated paths barren
Blackened by unforgiving, shared terror of the harrow
Knots connecting epiphytes to hosts now withered
Striving for heaven too high to ever reach the loam
Roots dangling above the earth

Impervious cries leave me withered
Barren effigies mock my search for the illusive loam
Harrow denies redivivus to a once vibrant Earth.