Now this land is filled with streets.
The thud of boots clinks with iron cleats
And the clack of stiletto heels
Echoes in dark alleys and congeals
Amidst the shattered darkness.
Tourists come to gawk alike at that what was and that what is:
Mountains, seas, and forests tall,
Climbing rocks, and scaling walls;
Ogling the improvident and impoverished
And secretly feeling better for being more polished.