Oh green, you fill the air I breathe; So wet, and alive, your form. Oh blue, that fills the grounds below, how alive you keep its brown. Oh white above, how wide you reach, how warm, your cold embrace. On a summer morn, I feel the winter chill In the sun, I feel the moon. Oh Earth, so bountiful, yet reserved, and without– care and love, from all beings down here. I’ll bring you healing, […]
The irony was lost to him, of complaining of polluted skies, when the remains of burning plant matter left his lungs. You are the victim and the perpetrator, to the crimes that you cry wolf to. You are the God of your own anguish, Mothered by pain, and your reluctance to change. Fathered by the passing of time, that makes you realize– your own mortality.