Sweet was the ancient tale once told,
Of star-born realms and skies above,
When primal hearts, though proud and bold,
Still held the thread of love.

From rose-hued lands where dreamers grew,
No scorn arose, nor warlike word.
‘Twixt cultures old, the wise and true
A gentle peace was heard.          

The sea lay calm, the waves moved slow,
While birds sang high on salted air.
The stars, the moon, and myths below--  
Drew hearts with gentle care.

When Orpheus, with lyre in hand,
Could charm the trees and still the shore,
He sang not just of death’s dim land,
But love that dared for more.

And songs poured out, both wide and bright,
Unbound by ticking clocks or schemes.
A joy unspoiled by neon light
Still stirs in silent dreams.

No noise, no screen, no hollow glow,
Just fireside tales and open skies--
A world less fast, yet rich to know,
Where wonder met the eyes.

But now, a broken engine hums,
Where whispers clash and meanings blur.
Though minds are fed, the heart succumbs--
In dreamy shadows stir.

This modern sprawl, in steel-clad guise,
Sees freedom drown and ruins swell.
While gilded dame with cunning eyes,
Buys silence, sells the shell.

Sweet childhood homes that most recall,
Still mourn the loss of treasured views.
While elders chase the siren’s call,
The Futures drown in hues.

O bitter jest, this march of mind,
That trades the soul for hastened days.
Where hearts and minds are redesigned
By profit’s clever maze.

Progress cloaked where truths are wrung
May blind the heart and charm the tongue;
But in the hush, old songs are sung--
Still bold, still clear, still young.
                                                          ­    Naturae consors esto