There’s so much loss, so little gain;

I look around sweet Gaia’s pain.

I see each day more land on fire;

We dance around her funeral pyre.

Each day there’s less that’s left behind;

What will we leave for our kids to find?

About a foolhardy florilegium

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

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s