Where is the wealth,

Who shall receive the Stately Inheritance?

Do you know where it can be found?

Below rock, in soft root and branch,

In a calmed sunful, daytime spree.

A drenched and weathered drizzled plain,

Or a sprawling ocean, tided by reliable esteem.

On snowy high-tops flushing river bedlands,

And forests awash in a bounty of brilliant green.

Swaddled and wrapped in plant phenology,

Or a tiny insects secret mini ecology.

And now, where can it be found?

Squandered on gleaming delights and trifled dollops,

Lost in hazy heads and ill-gotten private adventures.

In the cruises of paradise to memories forgotten,

Squalor’d on possessive pride of screened prison.

Knowingly imbued with apocalypto felt action,

Sunken deep in tar and oil, bled dry of air and soil.

Aswirl in the steeple’s clouding wind by side,

Soared high of heavy glinting smog’d fly ride.