People often speak
Of mankind and nature
As two separate things

But the way I see it
We are not opposites
But rather complimentary colors in the wheel

People often talk of natural beauty
Or man-made art
But I find it more beautiful
When the two mix

picture this:
The sun is rising over a marsh
Against the vibrant hues lies the silhouette
Of a shuttle on the launch pad
Sleek, modern, impressive
But yet, not intrusive
Rather, complimentary in its juxtaposition
And its coexistence

People act as though wilderness and civilization
Can't coexist, as if they are at war
I'm fact, we both need each othe
And through our shared past and planet
We are one and the same

Past and future daydreams
the delusions of
a present tense.

Unspeakable longing
fills every fissure
and pressure demands
the yielding of limits.

            (a dark torrent bursts forth)

      the shores will recede
      until the island is
      swallowed up by the sea

No survivors remain
when the tide, stemmed
for sakes external,
recapitulates the beachhead.

A great ache fills the land
with anguish, beckons
all beginnings to unite
with the end

      {the memory will fade
      to total silence
      beneath the roar of the waves}

Where wilderness waits
to interpose the tamed.

"The pity of war, the pity war distills". - Wilfred Owen"

Just as a feral war begs for armistice,
    a season of peace engenders
a violence vacuum that begs to be filled
    as surely as a hollow begs for a pond.

It seems a cosmic battle rages
      between the oversouls of people
who would chisel a sculpture to grace
     and those who would hack off its arms.

History’s fools fire up their bully horns
     shouting proud oratory to ignorance -
and lemmings goose-step to the precipice -
      doomed to plunge into a sea of misery.  

Then there is quiet - guilty and reflective.
     How could we let this happen
with so much gain and loss in the balance?

and the sculptors of civilization
      find fresh marble to once again
carve reason, beauty, purpose
      from the acrid ashes of pride.
    
But the oversoul of hate will brood and re-fester
     as long as it's thought noble to **** for a cause.

© 2016 by Robert Charles Howard

the earth was once molten
then frozen
but the sun did rise
though man knew not to record its passage
the seas once surrounded the land
then it was divided
but the moon did shine
though man could only gaze upon it
and as nature lived
and lives
so does man now
within himself he must decide
to fight as a civil man would
or to live in the moment time will judge harshly
our fears cannot remain calm in the face of death
our adherence to principle will not remain unchallenged
who will hold the line as horses charge knowing no rank
in the pages that will be turned
and argued
what will be said of us
that the idea of civilization was intended for the generation that followed?
will we be judged as saviors
or despots?
we cannot know how a man chooses
to fight
to control
to terrorize
to survive
and in the time of man and his children
can he accept that history will remind others not to live as we did
or is it that history will laud his leaving for a time
within the walls can we sleep soundly
knowing that those who cannot prove their innocence died in the fields
between absolute evil
and the relative good that was unable to fight without fear
all men will die
it is in the hands of the few to decide when
and though our time is unseen
and the consequence of decision cannot be traced adequately for justice
will we decide what to believe by the will of our soul
or the perception of our mind?