Literature
Relic of past worlds.
The vast view of the earth fields,
now bathing my sight,
submerging my senses in
it's flower's aroma.
The vegetation grows
as a never ending gift,
my hands work the ground
and it's invigorating.
Artifacts of wars,
are now relics of past worlds,
the new generations
run free, there is no fear in their hearts.
I myself I'm a relic of past times,
the story teller matriarch,
an agent of passive transformation
and a ground worker.
There is no place for war
any longer,
and the past wars artilleries
are now construction prime materials,
But even now in the midst of peace
ones might stay vigilant
for the human heart is complicated
and the smal