The land does not cease to give. But the people do grow full and forget to give thanks.
We fill up our hollow bones and trade heritage for a set of keys, a power line, a sadness not filled up by all the gold from these Mountain springs. We do our best to bring the forests and mountains down to find our gold. Still, it cannot fill the sadness, save to build our homes and fill them with lights, to fuel our cars and grind down the keys that will drive us to cemetaries on days when we are told to remember the leftOnes, our mothers and fathers. But we do not go and ask for wisdom anymore. We cannot bring ourselves to look down at the graves and ask the soil to give us answers.
And so, the land continues to give, while we forget to give thanks for the fullness of these hollow bones.