What does it mean
When all the stories have been told?
You can stand upon the plains
Feel the dry, cold wind on your face.
See the dust blowing through titanic skeletons
And the weight of those stories pushes back at you.
Cracks in the mud flats,
Jagged canyons in the oil fields
Civilization collapsed as the surface did
And burned as the air did.
There’s nobody left to fight the elements
No one to defend our legacy from the ravages of time.
As metal will rust and cement will crumble
The Earth forgets we were there.
You can place the stone upon that spot,
Surrounded by towering ruins.
It says that we were here, we grew on this world
And consumed it.
You see, it isn’t that everything died.
It isn’t that the planet looks dead.
It’s that we grew in its old nature
And we can only remind ourselves of what it was.