We've reached the timberline, 

 

And breached every bulwark along the way,

Searching for our lost morale

Somewhere in modernity's morass, 

Meticulously curating our sadness

To match the times of madness, 

In the stranglehold of sin, 

Blinking furiously to see

Which shore we might've called home, 

But that's just a frozen word of yore,

And what's an Eden for,

Stripped of meaning and design?

 

We've reached the timberline.