What will hold up the sky?

In First Nation lore eucalypts hold up the sky, as we tear them down with wanton abandon what will happen?

The old trees slowly wither, the old trees slowly die;
if they go to the next world, what then holds up the sky?
We stand upon a precipice, where doom awaits below
if we don;’t start to listen to that simple rhythms flow.

About a foolhardy florilegium

Nullius addictus iurare in verba magistri, quo me cumque rapit tempestas, deferor hospes.
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