Old Prose

(Note: This was written probably about 5 years ago. It wasn't as rancid and shitty as some of the stuff I wrote back then, but wasn't my best. Still figured I would put it on here for shits and giggles while I write other stuff.)

It's a sad sight...
When the rolling plains of wheat and corn are slowly torn away,
and are slowly turned, into the brick and wood forest that we call homes.

I ride by, every weekend, marveling at the endless fields of crops, awing in it's beauty.
It's like a mysterious meadow, as far as the I can see. Nothing in the ordinary, nothing usual to the eye.

Well, nothing like this is usual when your stuck in one of those brick and wood forest. You thrive for change. You thrive for nature. You thrive for something different then all the same thing and when the time comes when this new hustle and bustle world, where technology is taking over, you just need nature.

This is how I was. Ever since I was a little kid. I would pass by, and I loved the sight.
I loved seeing something different every weekend, though slowly it became not so different... but ever so right.

But unfortunatly, as time passed by, so did the ages.

With the ever so unfortunate overpopulation, and less need for crops since the world is reliant on things that are "fast" and "easy", the mysterious meadows
that flooded my past were no longer going to be part of my future. One by one, fields of corn, tomatoes, pumpkins, and everything, were devoured by the massive and ever so hungry brick and wood forest.

The sparkle in my eyes that would come from the sight of these magnificent marvels, slowly faded away, along with them.

But, as this happens, I keep my chin up, and hope in my heart, for as some of these fields have not become victim to the parasitic fabric of "new age society" and I am happy, that some of the things, that I hold close and dear, can still be near.

I still have a fear though, for this forest, of wood and brick, is like a plague...
slowly effecting everything near it... until there is nothing left but it. It may not be long until the remainder of what left falls... It doesn't stop... it won't stop...

It's a sad sight...
When the rolling plains of wheat and corn are slowly torn away,
and are slowly turned, into the brick and wood forest that we call homes.

I ride by, every weekend, marveling at the endless fields of vegetables, awing in it's beauty.
It's like a mysterious meadow, as far as the I can see. Nothing in the ordinary, nothing usual to the eye... but slowly, around these farms, are homes. They are all around us, all around them, like a lion, slowly circling it's prey, before it ATTACKS and claims victory over it's fallen prey. Soon, it will just happen. Everything that kept my life full of joy and wonderment will be gone... and I, along with the rest of the world, even if they don't know it yet, will have lost everything.

It's a sad sight, you know?-