She sits in a meadow
flooded by light, so freely given by the sun.
surrounded by the tall thick bodies of her protectors,
a gentle breeze ruffles the green carpet under her bare feet,
bringing with it the songbirds melody's
they crawled out of the Mud
bringing with them hate and violence
the Mud Men cut down Her protectors
to make way for temples were They worship Death
burn there body's for heat, cut them up to make shelter
as each one falls
a single drip of salt water falls from Her eye
flooding her home.
Her children try to comfort Her,
as they to lose their home.
the Mud Men move quickly
leaving black scars in There wake
Her precious rivers know tainted with Death
the ground stand with blood.
they wrap them self's in the flash of her children,
killed simply for there skins.
She is afraid of Them now.
the Mud Men have changed with time and not the way she had hoped.
they no longer care.
the Mud Men have forgotten Her.
what She has done, what She is capable of.
She is slowly getting weaker
the poisons from the Mud Men's cars, factors, trash
killing Her children, killing Her.
Mud Men robe Her of Her resources.
cut holes in her flash to tack them.
abuse, torture and kill Her children.
poison Her lacks, rivers and oceans.
soon She will be no more.
unless the Mud Men change there ways….
unless We change our ways!
We have the power to help Her.
We can save Her.
but instead what are We doing?
We continue with our ways,
We throw away things that kill her children.
We use things that kill them, that poison them.
We hunt them to the brink of extinct.
if We don't stop She will leave us,
And them where will we be?
What will we have left?
Will we even still be here?
If so, will we want to be?