The world was once green
And antelope walked upon it.
There was life then, in abundance,
And water for the joy of the spirit.
Into pathways of death?
How come has man traced these water lines
How come does he not light the fire of Life
In the belly of the earth
For the benefit of all?
Once was there what is now
But a scraping of the barrel of abundance.
What is the path that mankind has chosen
To bury the memory of what was good,
What was given by Life for the benefit of all?
Truth is, man resides in a globe of self-concern,
Down the centuries of forgotten ways –
With the estranged simplicity of those without tongue –
Those whose hearts long for the silence
Treasure, then, all that is left.
For once there was,
And now there is no more.
Forgetting the tryst with the earth
That sheltered and fed him
The sacred bond of man as master
Those freed of the tongue
To know the beatitude of silence.
Trust, then, the ways of old,
For they are the gifts of the future.
In no mean way shall they lift
From the bowels of despair
Of earth and sky and all that is,
All that has been,
And shall be no more.
Heather Green, 23 August 2011