Lifescapes.

The sun sets,
The ground weeps.
Light is cast
And the shadows creep.
Ground is cold,
Rapidly warming.
A dense fog pours
Over the landscape.

This land is alive like me,
It bleeds and breaths
Breeds and concedes defeat.
Its' greenest greens are likened
To my need to create.
The bluest blue of a sky so deep
Much like the sadness I often feel.
Or gleaming like the light
Of a setting sun.
This world is me, I am this world in turn.