A cascade of yellows came to follow me today. From the out side of a chest- nut tree cover- ing it’s bay. Although it went unnoticed by a multitude of folk. The way it chimed profusely I could swear it to me spoke;
“Here my fronds offer our platitudes in the inked half of the year. In the blondness is our gratitude before they sink unto the rear. You will find within the
fall
that you’ve made a fallen friend.
And green beginnings change just like flaxen leaves.
The natural landscape is an elderly, insightful shaman.
Each rugged ridged mountain top, swell within the ocean, jagged nettle, cracked tree stump and dancing desert is a wisdom filled wrinkle, thought or expression.
The ritual undertaken by nature combines meticulous process, indefinite time and arduous repetitions. Yet, the arrogance of the human race – the young pretender – mistakenly and pompously believes to know better than nature.
If you really take a minute and think about what our planet is telling us then you would realise what it’s relationship with us has turned into.
That of a hero toward a villain.
It’s only option left is to destroy us before we harm our hero and it’s universe any further. Rising sea levels, rising world temperatures, natural disasters, wildlife extinctions and crop failures… (the list goes on) all point to one thing;
the planet must extinguish that which destroys it.
It’s enemy.
Us.
Unless, of course, this youthful pretender learns from it’s hero…
Learns that process, time and repetition are valuable within nature. Learns that nature, in turn, is valuable. Learns that nature can live without humanity but humanity cannot live without nature.
And, most importantly, learns that although we foolishly teach one another that it is never too late to change, it is too late for us to change the permanent damage and atrocities we have caused to our hero, our planet, our Earth.
However, there is still a chance to rectify further damage; if we care for nature the way nature cares for us. And, our every morsel of being.
poorman'sdreams 