It ain’t nothing but some galactic mathematical equation being played out,
In backwards time.
Everything is wrong. All told and telling.
Genocide on my plate.
Raw feeling overspilling—
Genocide small and large everywhere.
Eco-terrorists, the lot of us,
“Progressing” by chocking earth and sea in plastic.
Exiled from balance,
From the core feminine.
How is this chaos rendering?
Why are we led?
Are we even seen?
Why do we even act?
What can it all possibly lead up to?
Can there really be meaning, at such scale?
Even if there was, would it ring true?
Or, as Terry Pratchett implied—
It’s all a game.
So which side is winning?
Just a walk in the park in the evening—
The chaos in the mind melts away in the cooler breeze,
Summer flowers layer the air with heavy sweetness,
And the streetlight plays a game of golden shadows with the trees.
There are still blessings,
Wherever we may see,
But time, it runs and leaps and bounds away—
We have to do,
We have to dare,
We have to save the Earth!
In 10 years we may not recognize our lands and seas!
What will you do?
A Dream of Pink
Who will notice the light on the flowers,
But for the quiet ones?
Who will think of the green we need,
But for the dreamy ones?
Why then is the world tilted loud?
Why doesn’t love trump fear?
When will the healing come?
There is an edge to hope,
That even when it floats away,
Clings as a shadow of wonder,
To the corners of the spirit.
Let it flower within you today,
Let it rise.
Smile at hope,
And hope will smile upon you…
Who knows what the two of you can do?
From afar I watch a mansion crumble,
I watch the inconceivable take shape,
And somehow, I am strengthened in my self.
Somehow, I feel the essential taut granite in me,
The one that holds up the truth.
Today I know that if there is to be any hope,
We each have to ascend.
Find our power, flex it,
And go heal this earth of ours.
In the crevasses of our world,
Where we’ve allowed one, maybe two lines of trees,
Birds live out their epic lives,
The orangutan withers.