Thales drank of her waters; Heraclitus stood by her shore.
Alas, they could not turn aside
the inverting nonsense of history's tide.
Rhea was fated to be reified.
This is my land.
She's a young lady,
giving me courage.
So I settle down on her bank.
I must find out whether she is
a gentle lover or a terrible warrior.
I will wait for time to give me an answer.
This is my land.
She's an old lady,
insisting on her own.
Black clouds are forming overhead.
I watch the hail,
as it falls on the road.
I see the lightning,
as it splits the trees.
I smell the burning.
It always comes.
This is my land.
She's a young lady,
with a steady hand.
She will let me help her,
as she plants the seeds.
She'll let me share her work,
as I see the seasons turn.
She'll let me share her sorrow,
as she buries her dead.
This is my land.
She's a young lady,
who will never grow old.
GPT-3 with Jessica Brotman