When Color Dies

I think that life shall never be as bold

if we only lived in shades of gray

as we would be in a world filled with cold

without colors to light up our day.

Blacks and whites are fine as trim

but just blacks and whites are not fun to see

and alone they'd diminish a day that would begin,

and that's not a world where anybody can be happy.

Sweet colors abound from sea to sea,

stretching across great highs and into the lows

and across every valley,

but we treat it all so badly for reasons nobody knows.

The greens once stretched across this great land

and now that world is invaded by man

because where there were trees great buildings stand

and droughts turn the land to a shade of burnt tan.

Fires rage in the great west

that remind us where we're at,

and we know from seeing we haven't done our best

as man is forever embroiled in some big spat.

The colors diminished before our eyes

as we struggle to fight the fires back

while we're left with the charred remains as everything dies,

our world seemingly on the attack.

We fight in the streets,

consume everything we see,

and bang between the sheets

oh so indiscriminately.

We pillage the lands

leaving damage in our wake

destroying everything from forests to sands

looking for more and more to take.

What will be left in the end

seems of no concern.

Sadly, my dear friend,

it's going to be a lesson that's painful to learn.