Hush!
Listen do you hear the silence above the roar of life?
Hush!
Do you hear your heart beating to your life's song?
Hush!
Do you see the sky above blanketing and comforting?
Hush!

Do you feel the world spinning around? With you standing still upon it?
Hush! Sshhhh! Quiet.
Listen to the flow of earth's blood in her rivers and streams,
feel her warmth from the sun like an adoring parental gaze.
Touch her thrumming life in her growing forests, see her wonders created for us her children.
Hear her lullaby before she is muted, choked, buried alive by us, with
our waste, our destruction, deforestation, over fishing, hunting.
****** the fruitful earth 'til she our mother is barren and useless.

Mother Earth is weeping and above the roar of our selfish modern sound, we do not hear her crying, or see her tears silently falling.
Falling onto selfish mankind.
Gaia that great mother to all, giver of birth to earth and it's universe
is a woman reclining upon the earth surrounded by a host of jealous warring infant adults the fruits of her labours.

*Oaths sworn in the name of Gaia, in ancient Greece, were considered the most binding of all.

She was an
unorthodox spirit,
never owned, certainly
not ruled. She broke the
rules; rebellion soul. Winged gypsy;
ocean day flights. In awe they flew,
not beside; behind her; they insisted on protecting this
archangel. They named her Silver -  her wings provided the
means; desires for travel & adventure. As white as pure
silk; eyes a crystallized stone blue.

© Sia Jane

If it was up to me,
I’d sing your name
As my mother tongue.
Let the sweet melody
Echo through the ears
Of old and young.

If it was up to me,
My national flag
Would be your hair.
My hand on my heart
Mumbling the anthem when
It waves through the air.

If It was up to me,
You’d stop the cursed wars
With a smile or a wink.
All the fighting cease and
The red soaked ground
Will turn into flowery pink.

If it was up to me,
The golden eyes are
The sun at noon.
Eyeliner is dusk.
And when they shut,
Here comes the moon.

If it was up to me,
You’d be the trees
The oceans, stars & clouds.
Cold summer breeze
Hitting the bale faces
Of the worshiping crowds.

If it was up to me,
You’d be the books,
Butterflies, cities & art.
Brushes of love, desire,
Madness and dreams
On my blank heart.

If it was up to me,
You’d be my miracle,
My water and wine.
The one and only wish
Of this life is that
You would be mine.