It is said virtue possessed by a sage causes him no misfortune
But it is he who must decide between rage or a stoic nature
In all of life he sees the destruction cast by man’s emotion
The will of another man is how he determines which is greater

Would he hang a nun in the town square if it would save a forest?
He once could see snow on the mountain tops in the spring
And now that he can only see rock he wondered of his desires
Was it for mankind or the bounties he received to hear nature sing?

If only his will could be released from the evil and the good
Then his form would guide his views within the natural state
But what has cleaved to him is being torn away while he grieves
And the steps he takes can only hear the voices of his fate

The aggression of making a life made an orphan of conservation
But lives alone in the wild was intended for our own good
A revolution cannot begin until it reaches those with something to lose
Until then one man will give his life as his mother knew he would

Where the air flows fresh and crisp
And life radiates shades of green
And orange and red and colors
That run deeper than the scars
Of the Earth;
Where the grasp of man halts,
Giving way to nature,
Where the footprints of history
Still belong to the mother,
Where the sky weeps
In sheets of life
For the fate of the idyllic land
Because it knows what is inescapable,
That is where I send my sorrow.

In time, the green
Will turn to grey.
In time it won’t matter
How tall the trees grew
Or how fit the animals were.
In time the Earth will choke on concrete
And all we will know is grey and greyer.
In time the Earth will pass away
But in less time than we realize.
For this world is not doomed
To ice or fire
This world is doomed to humans.

I went to a sanctuary today:
The remnants of a dammed river
Called Tanyard Creek.
Life was vibrant and flourishing,
Glowing with green and streaming sun,
Cascading falls and clear pools.
I even befriended a turtle;
It was all very lovely, I assure you.

Yet, this used to be a river
Before Man built that dam,
And it must have flowed for miles --
****** and untarnished --
Before Man built that dam.

I'm reminded once I reach the other end
Where it flows under an overpass
That this all is simply allowed to exist:
Someone owns this.
Someone can trample all of this.
This fledgling remain of something ancient.

This is the fate of the entire world:
It all has a price tag.
It can all become a parking lot,
An oilfield,
A sweatshop,
A mall,
And if this system goes unchecked:
This paradigm of infinite consumption.
Then that is where we will one day be,
With backyards that need to be genetically-engineered to survive.
Where every animal is exotic and rare.
Where New York is underwater.
While we lie in gas-heated homes,
Huddled away from the decaying world,
As we chase away the fear
That it is far too late,
That these wounds are fatal,
And that we let our greed and indifference
Ruin the world that gave birth to us.

People treat them as the ‘symbol of prosperity’,
Everyone is concerned with their habitat and dictate.
Their forefather told them,
“they are our old friend;
they nurture our land and trees
and help us to get bits and pieces for our endurance!”
They treat them as the symbol of opulence and
take care for their subsistence,
Share their terrain with the harbinger of lustre hope!