Yep Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

An echo from the dark green shore
now permeates each open pore,
from murky depths and plankton's slime
a spark ignites of active lime.
And takes the meaning to new heights
by turning off essential lights.
The bunker, once the wherewithall
was nothing but a musty stall.
It saved the mind from toothless cats
while making peace with starving rats.
Please do not fret, let fate decide
which of the Devil's beasts you ride.