Morning at Wickaninnish
There are two worlds we are walking through:
one a place of pain, sorrow and turmoil,
man fighting man,
humans destroying the environment,
and each other,
hate, division, injustice,
warfare and desperation.
Then there is the other world,
the real world:
shimmering with beauty,
filled with beautiful wild creatures,
dawns and sunsets and mystical seas,
and rivers to carry our hearts along,
and mighty trees breathing us
oxygen and peace.
It is a world of plenty,
a world of Enough.
We need only to share.
We need only care.
The beautiful world weeps at
it cannot comprehend:
in the midst of a paradise,
warring armies drop bombs,
corporations bomb under the earth
and the black snake spills oil
into pristine rivers.
She weeps at the two-leggeds
running amok on her surface,
so destructive, as if they are
anti-life, anti-joy, anti-peace.
They make no sense.
They are destroying
their earthly garden.
Despite it all, Father Sun comes
beaming up every morning,
streaking the sky with pink promise:
it's a new day, fellow pilgrims.
He sinks behind the horizon
every night, putting the day away
in surpassing beauty.
It's a sky-show in the heavens,
Fellow pilgrim, don't despair!
The beauty of life is everywhere.
Keep looking up!
We should all be walking around,
jaws dropped, at the beauty and grace
we are walking through.
A single step to start our journey,
a thousand miles to bring us home,
and we are wandering through Beautiful
everywhere we roam.
Jumbled thoughts for Elizabeth Crawford's Creativity Challenge: Beautiful. Earth beauty must be our solace, now, and we must protect her from destructive forces, now to be set loose in unprecedented numbers.