I have stared in solitary bliss,
understanding very little or indeed,
none of this.
This earth, whose petals we all will selfishly to pick,
this sky who day by day we poison sick,
these waters whom each one of us without
should live a low existence, hand to mouth.
Then each and every monetary minute
that whips us all that we no longer sing it,
reminds Me, as a hunger pang
of all the songs the ancients sang,
of land that gave in grateful loads abounding,
of harvest moons where village bells were sounding,
of Gods & nymphs in sacred water dwelling
that we, in grateful reverence
tales were to telling; to our children, to the youth –
so the torch was carried forth
and the wonders of the earth,
were all treasured for their worth.
Now I grow pale with watching
as the heavens fill with smog,
and the banks of every river start to fill
and there with littered plastic clog,
where parks become attractions
as a cornered beast within a zoo
and the wonders of the world
are melted down to factory glue,
I see conscience lay forgotten
I see courtesy lie dead,
and with both those pillars fallen
stands a sorry tale instead.