Glass and Steel

What is it that you want me to feel,
As I look upon your box of glass and steel?
Where are the ages when men lived in glory,
When each rising structure had its own story?
The theaters, the temples, the monuments of fashion,
The cornice edges of an out of the way mansion,
The little stone shed in a corner of a farm,
With a forgotten fence carved with intricate charm.
There was a time, not too long ago,
A time when time was somehow more slow,
When man put his hands on pillars of rock,
And out came a fairy, or a flower or a hawk.
When a house was more, it was a work of art,
Not just walls that keep people apart.
If I could take up those tools, wield a chisel,
I'd start by taking down every last cubicle,
Then move on to the act that even God adored,
When he let purposeless beauty and creativity explode.
What is it that you want me to feel,
As I look upon your box of glass and steel?
Why would you think this is what earth needs-
Nature breeds variety, a multitude of seeds.
From people who blessed her for what she willingly gave,
We now wield our whips; the masters, the slave,
Now we 'own' land, we cover with concrete,
Forgotten is the knowledge that the Earth needs to breathe,
Once, we took joy in the presence of life,
Now, we're in a jungle of geometrical knives,
Gleaming surfaces that reflect nothing important,
A world full of mirrors, empty, inconstant,
Tell me, what is it that you want me to feel,
As I look upon your box of glass and steel?