the daisies got walked on, again

trampled on,

the sweet grasses, cheat grasses, were burned

the peaceful oaks, that offered shade

were cut-into, until they fell

like old men

the river, told the earth what to do

and there was a great rising

underneath, the surface.

The identity of the land

is eroding

its cracked mask, has dried-out

its crumbling character, has fallen away

its insides, are boiling-out

like fire

and ocean change.

If you want to be a story-teller

and the machines make noise

they will hear the sound

of the mountain

like 10,000 nuclear bombs.

Psychologists say, that personality is formed in the first 3 to 5

years of life

and that intelligence is fixed

but they are operating from

theories

and not spiritual truths.

They say we live in the age of enlightenment

but everyone is walking around in the dark

fields are on fire

and they don’t take lightly, to being burned

lilies want to be liked

and daffodils dance in the wind

When nature is disrespected, she reforms herself

in a type of fury

men can’t comprehend

To be nature

is to be raw

It doesn’t feel right

but these are the feelings of the mountain

blasted, into oblivion

those who misunderstand her

think

the mountain, stands alone

but it is only a pimple

on an angry face

with a brain

seething

in magma

It decides, what to do

and it doesn’t hesitate.