This Modern Hell

As I walk among the metal of my youth

The concrete limbs of man’s far reach

Imprison what earth may lie beneath

Waiting for birthing

And if I should hack away

To take an axe to this artificial clay

And expose the red and brown of life not green

(For many years has it lied in sleep)

I would find not dirt and seed

But my own virtue awaiting me

Without pause

To deliver me from this modern hell.