Slate

Slate Over flow my eyes with green hills that change to blue grey slate The walls of cobble stones covered in yellow moss we climb or find a gate High peaks cloud your vision and we are almost Gods upon this land that is great No man made such beauty as this but he was born to protect it and all of sate From child surrounded by natural landscape wouldn't he surely cry a tear to find just buildings upon buildings man made defining a mindless generated state? Do we think that we are the Gods ourselves only with a mind for greatness to not speak of the fallen many that fought to see our children only now berate? We have strived so hard for the world to communicate that every one of us is accountable and the black market will and has become the norm to necessitate Every person on this planet is a commodity to extrapolate