in the land of giants-

We are killing ourselves..

with guns and hate,

with wars that never satiate.

Nor solve..

the problem which birthed this war in the first place.

In the second place..

we are killing hope

by chasing ambitions and dreams that preclude

the very world that holds us dear, it seems.

So we stomp,

we growl,

curse and howl,

scream in anger,

moan

and

linger..

Ignore the danger in our complaints cry foul..

point fingers!

Never realizing

at the end of the hand so accusatory,

at the end of the day,

there are naught but selves to blame.

and all the while the ants build their hearth and home..

the gnats flitter about,

snacking on the rotting corpses of what is left.

So this I ponder,

as it gives great wonder..

When we have absconded,

from this dying and beautiful world..

By ship,

By science,

By religion,

Will the trees make a sound?

From the simplest sapling,

to the strong and resolute,

standing somber and witness,

Failing and falling,

in quiet dignity folding leaf and branch,

shattering serenely,

The giant Redwoods,

the majestic of the Amazon,

the Baobabs in Africa,

the rest un-named,

now un-homed.

They reach proud to the sky

and bid adieu to the end of their days.

How vain humanity is

To think we are the only living thing

that can hear..

a beautiful dying!