The river plays forte in the great symphony.
It is rushing rapids harmonizing and singing,
with the whimpering willows cry of agony.
Performing to an audience that is ever unforgiving.
......
Perhaps the world is a living thing,
and we are merely parasites living on it.
At first, so small and insignificant
no one could imagine our causing any real harm,
and so we fed on, greedily and without remorse
as parasites do, but now it has become clear
we have sickened the Earth almost to death.
Oh, it's a dangerous game parasites play,
slowly devouring their host all the while knowing
that when it dies, they must abandon ship or die, too.
......
Our lasting legacy lies not,
In the towering stone structures,
But in,
The forests we nurture,
The oceans we safeguard, and
The skies we keep pure.
The water is cold but her fur is warm,
A cozy blanket I nuzzle in with my sister and brother.
As we watch the fireflies begin to swarm,
Safe from danger, on the back of our mother.
The firefly's glow like thousands of stars,
......
Helpless a stump does sit suffering from decay,
on the rugged part of the hillside where loggers had cut away.
Glorious the trees did stand along the rocky ridge,
as long as the eye could see from the river to the bridge.
Time, and time again their beauty had been praised,
but the loggers saw had chopped their limbs in total disgrace.
I see a shameful reflection in the look of a saddened tree,
if only man had kept his values for all the world to see.
......
The river plays forte in the great symphony.
It is rushing rapids harmonizing and singing,
with the whimpering willows cry of agony.
Performing to an audience that is ever unforgiving.
......
The water is cold but her fur is warm,
A cozy blanket I nuzzle in with my sister and brother.
As we watch the fireflies begin to swarm,
Safe from danger, on the back of our mother.
The firefly's glow like thousands of stars,
......
Our lasting legacy lies not,
In the towering stone structures,
But in,
The forests we nurture,
The oceans we safeguard, and
The skies we keep pure.
Every drop of water,
Every breath of air,
Every blade of grass—
Whispers the same truth:
We are but custodians of this planet,
Entrusted with its care
For generations yet to come.
Helpless a stump does sit suffering from decay,
on the rugged part of the hillside where loggers had cut away.
Glorious the trees did stand along the rocky ridge,
as long as the eye could see from the river to the bridge.
Time, and time again their beauty had been praised,
but the loggers saw had chopped their limbs in total disgrace.
I see a shameful reflection in the look of a saddened tree,
if only man had kept his values for all the world to see.
......