by Malia
We are
Different fingers
Of the very same hand.
We are
Born pure,
Then forgotten.
I am the flowers
And the river.
Mother Nature
What can I give her?
She is all I cannot be.
She is all I once was.
The children of men
Have twisted her personage
Until her portrait no longer
Is recognizable.
The children of men
Have twisted themselves
Trains, cars, factories!
Nothing but awful galleries
Of memories, a eulogy
For the truth, the natural way.
And yet, it all runs through us.
Like our blood, and the breeze
And the sunlight’s dappled stream,
Like a rope, but not a chain,
Sustenance, our meat and grain.
It is One, and we are It.
We are One, and separate.
******
Malia
Art by Nikolay Panov
Brought to you by https://thecorner4women.com together with our sister website http://www.nicheebookcollections.com and our growing e-book library available FREE, through our Newsletter sign up page here:-
https://tc4women.nicheebookcollections.com/NEWSLETTER-EBOOK-LIBRARY-SIGNUP.html We now have over 1700 e-books on our library shelves for your reading pleasure, so do come along and check us out.
More articles by Su DeNyme (our resident writer) & John A Elliott are available here: https://www.nicheebookcollections.com/TC4W/ARTICLES.html
No comments:
Post a Comment