In fields where whispers of time softly tread,
The seeds of life in silence spread,
An endless dance, a ceaseless flow,
The human tide continues to grow.

Beneath the sun’s unwavering gaze,
Cities rise in concrete haze,
Nature’s breath begins to fade,
In shadows cast by progress made.

Yet in this vast and swelling throng,
Echoes of dreams, both right and wrong,
Hope and struggle intertwine,
In the tapestry of humankind.

O, gentle earth, cradle of birth,
Bear the weight of our growing girth,
Guide us wisely through this plight,
As we seek harmony in the night.