Work Text:
That day the oil was glimpsed inside the water well,
We did not know, but we’d become ceruleum folk.
On dry, rroneek-stomped land we built refineries.
It billowed so cerulean blue, ceruleum smoke.
It wasn’t enough for our deep pockets, empty eyes,
So next, of course, we turned to that ceruleum coke.
We close our eyes, so full of white, to hear once more
The tack piano age where blue ceruleum spoke.
We don’t sense rustling plants nor hear the whispers now,
The gentle balance which ceruleum broke.