What beautiful flowers grow at the centre of empire?
Whose scent gently wafts to our uncertain edge
Most construe its beauty for selfish desire
Their roots as a noose extracting our breath
For are not flowers central to the essence of nature?
Do they not represent nature's fruitful plan?
To the detractors of empire I quickly wager,
"Isn't empire nature seen through the eyes of man?"
For they see the potential in a soulless desert
Emerald hills instead of endless dunes
They value oil and water with equal measure
Progress central to their point of view
But the multitude cry out "bloody murder!"
They smell the putrid scent of genocide
"How can you kill for progress?" they naively wonder
"Does not native blood out weigh selfish pride?"
Yet genocide is simply slashing and burning
So Ideas can be planted to mature and bloom
How beautiful it is to see their children learning
Noursihed from their new found bountiful fruit
So the edge of empire thanks the beautiful centre
For your selfless garden endlessly grows
But the white bones portruding often remember
Dying of thirst while bloody rivers flowed!
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