In a world where nothing matters, what happens if you care;
if you see the devastation; see the life of it stripped bare.
What happens to the Spirit in a land where nothings left;
in a land devoid of Gaia because of human’s theft.
We tear, we rip, we plunder and what’s in our wake is bare;
and we move on to the next bit because we just don’t care.

About a foolhardy florilegium

Nullius addictus iurare in verba magistri, quo me cumque rapit tempestas, deferor hospes.
This entry was posted in Green Poetry, Life, nature, Spirit. Bookmark the permalink.

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