How are we so comfortable?

This earth, this tree of life, one great cosmic network,

slowly suffocating, struggling to breathe, to flourish, to provide,

this world gives us nothing but unconditional love

and this is how we find the edge of the earth.

One job? For everyone, for all, there's no single

word for it: maintenance, love, preservation, 

omission of our dependence on machines; fill

this chasm of our separation from the natural world. 

We're missing something. Wake up and waste, throw away,

discard, use once, consume and spit out,

take what we can and give nothing back. Imagine

one seed planted per person. Imagine one

watter bottle for every human alive not left for

the earth to choke on. Imagine letting this world

have a breath of fresh air, seeing the light for what it is,

in its true irridescent beauty, rejoicing, wiping

the sweat from its brow, the sickness cured, at last

able to do what it was born to do: love.


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