I am of the earth;
pure and moist,
fertility my lifeblood;
enriched with the hope of my gardener,
that I may prosper radiant blooms
under the gentle hands of my caregiver.
I am of the earth;
a barren wasteland
poisoned by toxins of long ago;
heaving ancient fossils upward,
unworthy of elegant foliage
still I wait, for the cleansing serum.
I am of the sky;
a witness to all of creation,
holding the sun and birds by day
the moon and stars by night;
an azure of never ending heavens
gently floating beneath the bosom of eternity.
I am of the sky;
swelling black clouds of fury
choking out the sun so it does not see;
cracking the raging whip of disgust,
bolting mindless beasts of prey to their grave
then down comes my mourning rain.
I am of the sea;
current of liquid promise,
passageway to greener pastures;
deep rolling courage spills over my shores,
kissing the sandy feet of children,
restoring innocence to their wonderment of life.
I am of the sea;
seepage of haunting rivers,
an abyss of drowning decades;
stagnated, a forsaken toilet of humanity,
digestion rages within tempest tantrum,
hurling blackened refuse upon polished shores,
and you, gasp and flee from I, your creation.
Teresa Wilson ~1999
Fable ~ Robert Miles ~
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