Skies stricken with the zephyrs of despair,
Sun gleaming on gears of salvation,
Nature may have something to spare;
Then there would be glorified escalation.
A new era of renewal lies,
But the choice is that of mankind;
Whether to protect or let die,
Merciful earth may not heal our kind.
May bird, seed, and frog see serenity.
As time halts those robust deaths,
And rattans reach for their amenities,
As they release their dire breaths.
So we shall wait the day, in which bark and flesh join in harmony as one;
And the occult war between branch and fist may come to a halt and never redone.