The rainforest dies
As I unload these reams
My spirit cries
How can I aid in the murder,
Assist in the destruction,
of these magnificent trees?
Majestic pillars of time
Every miniscule petal of life,
An all-seeing eye
But my eyes are closed.
I won’t blink in the corporate world,
Reports reports reports
Devoid of all manners as we,
Both coldly and boldly, reap what we sow
Will everyone cry out
When there’s no place for our ink?
What will we do when the canvas is gone?
And there’s nowhere for our savage luxury pens to write upon
I can almost feel the earth weep,
More so than hear her, while I see these trees
Forced to the butcher’s block
Without fair representation, without fair trial
Treated lowly, when they but must selflessly provide
I know the rainforest won’t reign
Not on man’s watch, not while we carelessly ride
But I know a fair response is one of gratitude
A thankful heart for the rooted servants
And the endless toiling they do
For if I can see God’s hand in anything,
It can be the flora
Crisp, green goddess
Natures striking melody meant for all of us.
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