This Island Earth.

This Island Earth.

Beauty is absorbed into the ether, like raw energy,

Each unto its own moment does flare and burn.

Each upon age does lose its attracting power.

Such vigor waning , hour upon hour.

She lives, she sees..her breath I breathe,

This Beauty ,

This island ; Earth.

This island Earth..

Her patience shaped ; an antiquity of years

Mountains, trees..east to west

Deserts, seas..around her girth..

All of life a painful birth..this island Earth..

Now mute, this soil of ravaged earth,

Speaks a language I no more comprend,

Where once I tilled with bare hand..

. . . and DID understand.

Mute ; the soil that gave me birth,

Speak to me!.. mother silent,

This island ; Earth.

This island Earth…

Waiting, waiting, rain softly falls in stacatto’d drop

Rapping, tapping, upon patient crow’s shellacq’d back..

It’s gimlet eye sprightly espy

From vantage perch on a tree’s barren bough..

Beauty’s last breath;  just another roadkill death.

But for the moment, just a moment..stay!

There is a bizarre purity here,

While the kill’s vacant eye adores the open sky..

Between the seconds of decision,

Before the crow scavenges its share of flesh,

All is so perfectly plain..and calm,

On this island Earth.

On this island ; Earth,

What beast is man with his awful plan

Myself, called to hand deliver death

On Beauty’s last breath .

Lain’ before me in wracked injury,

Smashed bone and eye..body awry,

Limp crawling agony demands such a thing of me.

That I must kill what is fateful death,

Save one wild eye and treasured breath,

That I must kill and kill and kill…what’s left..

What’s left to die on roadside breadth..

For this island ; Earth.

This Island Earth..

Lament, fair children, Lament my fair child,

Lament for what you have to abide.

Born to us a gift supreme, sight sublime,

Beauty’s hand to hand in mine,

But now I turn mine eyes askine,

Now in shame and guilt decline

To walk hand with hand in thine.

Whilst fair Beauty and her entourage

Lay dying in irreversible damage.

And ponder I, why ‘tis always encouraged,

That we pluck the prettiest flowers,

But leave the weeds to flourish..

On this island Earth.

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