The Song

Images of days gone by embedded in my brain;
images of beauty alongside images of pain.
Images of futures a fleeting glimpse at most;
images of a planet where we’re all burnt the toast.
Earth is slowly burning and we have no other home;
forget the dreams of new ones and galaxies to roam.
This in our one and only home, the place where we belong;
we simply need to be here – we need to learn her song.
Her song is buried in the past where we oft fear to go;
it’s buried with the Old Ones – we struck their final blow.
Still, she left us remnants of the song that is her Soul;
to hear it we must Journey out where it is still whole.
The song is in the rainbow and in the leaves of plants;
the song is there in everything, from elephants to ants.
The song is in the clouds above and lowly mushrooms too;
the song is there for all of us, it’s out where dreams are true.

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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, Mental Health, nature, Spirit. Bookmark the permalink.

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