Our land was broken, In need of swift repair.
Hopes lay in regions, Governed by clean air.
Great effort and cost Led to new lands.
Which were cold, grey, and windy- Lifeless and bland.
I starred at empty vastness, Thinking of the old nation.
Filled with regret, And a stirring realization.
We could have banded together, To fight the reflective foe.
To fix the land, And restore the rainbow.
But too late we are, To champion change.
We wounded ourselves,
How cynically strange.