Second Nature's concrete canyons

The fabric of the city is not without a soul.
The hearts, shoulders, and backs of great mountains ground down by machine or weather have been gathered to rise anew. The concrete is made from the ground up bones of
the earth. The skins of buildings come from the flesh of the mountains.
The metal sinews of internal structure are refined from many of their
elemental friends. Do they not remember themselves even as they are
metamorphosed into the constructs of humanity. Are they not again subjected
to the same forces of nature as they were while virgins in the earth.
They are indeed. Cities are alive, if perhaps a bit less random. An attempt to put order to reactive chaos. They have sheer cliffs, endless vistas, curious winds, and deep and twisting
canyons. The sunlight seeks to ground admidst a multitude of towering
crags while throwing deep cool shadows behind the obstructions in its path.
Laughing pools of water speak as clearly as any mountain brook.
And life adapts itself to the new wilderness.
I have walked these concrete canyons and felt their
ancient sentience speaking to my heart. The flash of an office light far
above or the reflection of a shooting star? Are they not similar in their impact on ones senses, though one entity has traveled considerably farther?
I have walked these concrete canyons, I respect
their patience, they have allowed us to mold them for a time but they
know that they will return to the earth as surely as they feel the siren
call of gravity seeking to pull their great ramparts down. I have walked
these concrete canyons and known their beauty too.