A man, tall and imposing, stands by the river.

He shouts with ferocity to the man on the other side,

Hate in his throat.

His land is parched, his crops are dead. His fields strewn with rock.

How did this come to pass?

The man on the other side stands away from the bank.

He stares past the first man into the arid ground opposite,

Desire in his eyes.

His land is green, his crops are ripe. His fields strewn with bounty.

How did this come to pass?