Forbidden were commoners to think,
Or did they just ignore?
The splash of water on the shores,
Or the gushing wind winding the force,
Turning the heavy head towards hell,
Shallow, itching for the surface,
Liberal, liveable lithography in progress.

It was irreversible, a fact it was,
The Clarion had been blown,
Leaving blots gradually blossoming,
Brimming, building brisk brick walls,
Purposes undefined and intimate,
With civilization moving uphill,
Or so to say artificial were the artifacts,
That grew grand gruesomely.

Man, and his work of art over centuries,
Tampering with and taming the seas,
Forests weren’t left alone either,
Butchered but with a sense of survival,
Man thanked God for his craft least.

Seeping in came the greed,
And the need to exaggerate the need,
For now, desires were wants,
And the cave carved left alone,
Caped casually the onslaught of known,
For, the Clarion had already been clamped,
A second reckoning of whatever was left,
God’s answer to Man,
Disruption in order was at hand!