Incantation

To the Sand,

To the howling Winds and beating Sun,

To the terrible Heat, the thunderous Rain,

To the One Behind it All,

Come to me, pray listen,

Beckon to my call,

For it is my time of need,

Upon this barren land I will found a city,

One of grandeur and excellence,

Where there are not Trees but Skyscrapers,

Not Rivers but Roads,

Meticulously managed,

Perfectly planned,

O Great Nature, Mother of Ambition,

Oh how I feel your presence here in this wasteland,

Between the cracks of lime,

Within the grains of sand,

You linger and prosper,

You have done very well, Great Nature,

In this land of naught,

I bid you farewell, Grand Mistress,

You have served your time well,

It is time to usher a new age,

Which makes you necessary to quell,

Dear Madame,

We regret to inform you,

Your employment has been terminated,

And your services are no longer required,

After returning all property and receiving your final sacrifice,

As well as severing all cultural roots you have currently supplied,

Please return to the recesses of the water table,

Then deeper still to the undersoil,

We wish you success in your future endeavors,

So away,

Do not bestow a spirit of livelihood,

Your idea of community is inefficient,

Filled with debauchery,

Unaligned with our values,

Back, back, I say,

For the Sands and Sun and Wind and Heat and Rain alone will aid me,

Uncomplicated as they are,

They are not stained by your swill,

Nor do they smell of your complexity,

And upon this city,

The people shall thrive,

With lives of luxury and opulence,

Without You, Grand Mistress,

They need you not,

I need you not,

This city needs you not.