The Things, the World Poetry Collection

The Country

I am the roots of soil which mantle the foundations

Of brushed forests and valleys.

These foundations that assemble the peaks

Of stunning mountains.

And these peaks will stand tall and true

To bring wandering, lost souls.

Lost souls no longer, settlers

Who build villages and kingdoms.

Kingdoms will bring the wealth of trade

Selling goods of wheat, pottery and metal.

Metal sparks the flame of war

Where rivals lay waste and blood.

Blood flows through ripples

Of the fallen forests and deserted valleys,

Of shattered, unforgotten villages.

A kingdom still exists,

 I am the country to make it rise again.