The End

The day she died we never knew;
us ‘lucky ones’ – ‘the chosen few’.
Living in our worlds secure;
all sacrosanct and Oh so pure.
We felt her pass – the trembling earth;
death from which there is no rebirth.
To us here in this ‘lucky land’,
life went on, all neat and planned.
Deep in the forest, those folk knew;
the few who’d held her wisdom true.
Their wailing chanting filled the sky;
“She’s gone” they said “the world will die.
While those true folk in nature chanted.
In high temples preachers ranted;
“Dominion over all” we raged
gnashing teeth like beasts all caged.
But somewhere distant – like a dream
we too heard that woeful scream.
That final sound – Gaia’s demise
all brought to you by capitalist lies.

About a foolhardy florilegium

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