The Slow Collapse

Concrete splits under the silent pressure of green seeking the sun, a slow rebellion measured in seasons, where iron flakes into red dust and glass eyes shatter on empty streets.

The cathedral of commerce stands hollow, echoing only the wind's low hum, while vines weave their tapestries over forgotten monuments of speed, reclaiming the geometry of ambition.

Beneath the asphalt crust, roots remember the ancient rhythm of the soil, breathing deep in the dark, waiting for the slow collapse of a world built too fast to last.