Again and again… ONCE MORE!?
How many times must I cry acid from the rain and force my children into early winter, disrupting the glow of my divine infinite crown of life and death?
Can you not breathe my plea? Can you not sense that from the soil sprouts blood and not flowers from seeds?
Are your EYES so very SHUT that you cannot see the stinging red of the land?
Unnaturally rugged… dry… filled with debris that never seem to corrode into me
TORN… CRACKED… BAKED… VANISHED… Taken over by black stone of awful taste and smell
I carry the heaviness of concrete monsters, not of my creation, pressing down on my womb; no longer able to give birth to a myriad of color tear offspring
What have you done… entering these sheets of poison into my blue veil!?
Are your EARS so very OVERFLOWN WITH LIES that you cannot hear the howls in the dark night?
My sons and daughters escaping into “your domain”, pushed by the instinct of survival engineered; no blocks of solid steady belly skin to catch their heavy padded paws
Run away! I say to them — man’s trust long since forgotten; once gentle hands of positive urging replaced with whiplashes of led cannon bullets mightier than any beast ever designed and feared more than my king of the jungle’s roar
Are your TONGUES so very NUMB that you cannot taste the oil in your fresh water?
The black gold that runs through my veins, never meant to surface, now exposed to my children who fall dead poisoned!? They float belly-up on land and sea — harbingers of merciless judgment
Are your MOUTHS so very SEWN that you cannot utter a single verse of defiance?
That you do not scream as I do when my brother Sun unknowingly catches me in a fiery embrace!? My gardens set asunder, reduced to ashes I painfully taste in the wind
Why do you no longer play the drums at the rhythm of my thunder song?
And dance around the fire pit, arms raised to the edge of MY domain in praise?
Instead, you run from me and hide away to hibernate within caves of ignorance and mechanical artistry I yet wait to understand…
And already… he brushes the white coat of his majestic stead, the first of seven seals hanging from his neck
Unbeknownst still… A leviathan in wait
Oh Father, is it already too late?
After seeing so many works and writes about the latest ordeals plaguing the Earth… I was inspired to voice my own.
The mother speaks back… just quiet the mind and listen.