Man comes armed with righteous adjectives:
Glory! Honour! Dignity!
And how we destroy,
Shackled by patriotism for the country we live.
But nature flies a kamikaze plane,
Her divine wind soars and then
falls. Our futility is exposed.
We aim our weapons at her,
Yet we annihilate ourselves instead.
Miasma. The lily smells of death,
As mother’s jaw opens to emit a stinky breath,
She coughs back our gas and yet,
Why do we battle our earth?
We took an eagle and called it Freedom,
Only to eat its heart and call it our own.
But the youth are rising,
As mother nature guides us through the fields and parks
to the streets where we hold our signs,
And use our voices as knives.
We must remember our home,
And it is not built from bricks or mortar,
But out of her sun, wind, rain,
And the hopes and dreams of us all.