The Cycle of Seasons
Blood drips from the bones of the Earth
It splatters the ground, covering every surface
Piles form . . . 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,
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: