The Last Forest

Walking along the beaten path,

the fall sun shines on me like a warm bath. 

This forest is the last.  

I am alone, 

I am one with the world. 

I feel the heart beat of a thousand creatures, 

Ones that others will never know. 

When the last tree is cut, 

I will be the last too. 

We will never stop until it's too late. 

Do not wait.

Take some time to feel it too, 

The humming of the world echoing through you.


This poem is about: 
Our world


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