Mother Nature was on the naughty step,
Only the grey pallor of the moon to contempt
What little resonance she still claimed
On the consequence below, product
Of her own foolish invention, intention
That the stars so detestably famed.
Sun, sending reason behind Natures treason
Begged like a lowly saint, knees burning
In faith, fear, and friendship; she knew
The horrors of humanity could wipe
Candle creases in her bright blesses.
Was it to be one of those glorious messes?
Flesh in hand and doubts all but sand,
Nature laboured, lorded, laughed timely,
Work soon to reach the world, worries
Striking rarely in quaint little flurries
For, as all children in the eyes of mother,
They were beauty beyond the ocean.
They loved like the forests, lived as human.
As the sun beat down rays in dismay,
She too learned of another light, bright
Beside the evergreen, dark against the
Ever changing blinding of her own hate.
But, in crimson, carnations became carnage.
One could ask Mother Nature this tale,
Crying on the step as she withers away
As a product of her own pestilence, or
See the screaming sun in all her silence.
Or taste the bitter tongues of our children
For Mother Natures truly beloved
A mother cannot see fault in her flaws,
Only what change she hopes it still stores.
I've only been on this site for a matter of days, but already it has been brilliant.