When Silence Wept

"Echoes of the Price to Come"

We are the makers, born from dust,
With hands that shape and hearts that trust.
We carve the heavens, chase the stars,
Build kingdoms tall from what we are.

We write our names in waves and stone,
We call this fragile earth our own.
Each step we take, a mark, a claim,
A dream that sets the world aflame.

But in our wake, the soil sighs,
Beneath the weight of countless lies.
For every tower, something breaks,
For every wonder, something shakes.

The rivers murmur, and forests weep,
As what we sow, in time, we reap.
Yet still, we marvel, blind to the stain,
Caught in the dance of joy and pain.

The beauty we craft, the darkness we leave,
Are threads entwined in what we weave.
For in our light, the shadows grow,
In all we touch, both bloom and woe.

We are creators, but takers too,
We drink the earth as it drinks you.
And in the end, a toll will call,
The cost is written in us all.

So we stand in awe, as we decay,
For all we've done, there comes a day.
When what we love, and what we've bled,
Will ask a price that must be fed.