Earth-Tones

Unquestionably, the Mittwelt turns on broken hinges; it spins defunct on its wayward track. All browns and greens meld with greying ocean anemones. And continental drift glides with the pan-economic shift. The human course, mulish, reluctant to go; the God of men looks on from High: downskies from terrestrial pen. When evolution veers and moralities lose their currency, hold onto whatever's left; or else lose yourself.