Oh ruined labyrinth, your stone walls do evict our Grass.
The days of labor and loathing seep into the roots of life!
The Sky, she cries with her soul tainted from the waste of men,
as they treat her like a Harlot. Yet she nurtures the same.
Does man not know, that he is but a pebble in this river of life?
Hath he care not about the ripples being caused?
Or does he look upon, his sister with selfish ambition?
His hands stained like the Ides of March.
With shame I wonder about Nature,
Who's Domain was once what eyes saw.
Now men look with eyes to saw,
The gracious one who feeds us all.
Although my Sylvan friend doth cry
She enlightens those who realize,
There is more than air that rules sky.
A place not seen by idle eye, but granted by herself divine.
Now! I say go wander hills.
Meet thy brother winged, thy sister gilled.
There lay divine among-st the trees,
A majestic world for all to see.
If thou go with Nature and reunite,
your Soul will glide in endless flight
Those who praise in brick abodes, know not the pleasure of being home.
They shout kill o'er broken eggs, when true life lay beyond their hedge.
It is great rapture to see with Eye and one's Mind,
Though it pains me to know that my brethren are blind.
So as I rest within this field, the maroon Sunset does appear.
To wave,smile, then take her leave, for her crescent brother to take the lead.
And so as my lids begin to fall,
I thank the mother of us all.
She lies awake in things perceived
From Sun to Wind, from Seed to Tree.