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Haul the pickaxe
Pry that crowbar
Slam sledgehammer,
into rotted foundation.
Let's rebuild house
on no-man's land.
Overlooked corners,
no architect planned.
I've seen red haired fox,
wild turkey, baby deer,
prowling proud
early morning.
Hungry, homeless,
in a heartless district.
Lost as the crone's secrets,
in wind-blown ashes,
of the witches pyres.
Wild bloodlines, wiped away.
Leave as spoiled fruit,
of soulless survivors.
Generations built fortresses
and thrones, never to
allow any enjoyment
of their luster.
Hold no hope in natural laws,
nor faith in city walls.
Let's just rebuild
on no-man's land,
overlooked corners,
no architect planned.
On no-man's land.

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