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There is grass amongst the rubble,

Grown tall

Atop our graves.

I am the weed in the cracks

Of their slag heap—

I am their debris;

Their last gasp.

I am what’s left of their

Nature

And their

Civilization;

Their society.

Our society.

Steel and sod

Grow together

In this basin,

And the river

Is filled with the

Cinders

Of our symbiosis.

There is no escape,

For this is the ultimate

Process of nature.

Save one.