The Cycle of Seasons

Blood drips from the bones of the Earth

It splatters the ground, covering every surface

Piles form . . . and grow

And grow

And grow

And the humans, weak against the power of Nature

Are forced to clean up our mother's blood

It drips and drips

Until there is no blood left.

And the world slowly dies.

Only to be reborn again.

When the world dies, she is peaceful.

The only hint that she is slowly leaving her home

Is the soft howling, uttered by the Sky.

But you wake up the next morning

And she is gone.

Leaving only white memories behind her.

Slowly, the darkness clears, sadness gone

Happiness replacing it

For Earth's child, the one who will continue her great legacy

Has been born from the sun,

The warmth

The life

Her rays, bringing light into the darkest of corners

Illuminating her great mother's memory

As she and the Sky dance

And finally, Man

Sitting on Nature's tree

Hold hands, dangle legs

Free from pressures

Free to love

He carves a heart into the tree, signs the names

The Earth's daughter, now having the story of two more Humans in her veins,

Running through her bones

She feels electrified


From the use of that word: