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