Through deserts and forest and grassy savannah
a landscape that transcends them all.
Glowing alight at night with neon orbs that call forth
all the the bats and the moths and birds of night
until a carnival of wonder circles overhead
Above the teeming lights of the Scablands.
Multicolored landscape as rich and vibrant,
yet hardened too,
where concrete slabs battle for the prestige of being the tallest
and highways and streets join
in a network of paths that connect all of us fiftieth cousins together.
In the Scablands
a hazy dusk hangs over us
from the steampunk machines
that thrive in their streets and in the Scablands
the plants are preserved in concret pots, rubber tires, bricks and porcelain toilets; anything to remind its occupants of what used to be. Little ghosts of their ancestors, teeming with light and with life, but yet so estranged from what it was truly like in the deserts and the forest and the grassy savannahs
and is now the Scablands