Strange monologue...
I miss simpler times. I miss the times before cars and buildings polluted my skyline, my horizon. I miss the solace I once received from the Earth itself - a peace I cannot find anymore because our Earth, from its vast oceans to its remaining forests, is fearing for its very survival. I miss when there was grass and dirt where pavement and blacktop now lie. I miss sitting outside on a sun-warmed rock with a good book, listening to the sounds of Nature around me, lulling me to sleep with her gentle lullaby. These images flood the space behind my eyelids and travel to settle in my heart, creating such a longing that words fail it.
How strange is it to be homesick for a place and time you've never even been to?
There are no untainted fields here, no significant bodies of water that remain innocent of the filth of the modern day human. I mourn the rape of Nature, for she is continually the victim of a species with eyes only for their desires in a constant power struggle. I mourn because Man wishes Control, absolute and unquestioned - and Nature wishes only to exist. She wishes for balance and Man takes that from her. I mourn because our Earth is now fighting for its life in the most basic of ways because humans have given it no other choice. But as it destroys our buildings - as it tears at the unfeeling materials we apply unreciprocated emotions to... the question uttered is "Why? Why us?" And then our Earth is blamed. Like a wild animal, meant to be free, shoved in a cage and pushed so far that it forgoes its natural instinct to run and instead attacks if only to be given a moments rest... Earth is blamed for seeking its reprieve.
This knowledge disgusts me.
It is the Energy that flows around us that tells me of times long ago. It is the Earth's way of communicating its pain. I must mourn for the simpler times because the Earth and Nature cannot. The must focus on survival, and in that fight they cannot weep for fallen comrades*; fallen friends or children destroyed by the species that swore to protect them. No, Earth and its Nature cannot pause - and so I must, because to do anything else is to dishonor the true warriors - the ones who die and fall into static each winter and rise again each spring with less room to make their homes. I cry for them, because no one else will, and I will not let their memories and efforts fall into a forgotten shadow. And through all of this?
I miss simpler times, and I miss sitting outside.
How strange is it to be homesick for a place and time you've never even been to?
There are no untainted fields here, no significant bodies of water that remain innocent of the filth of the modern day human. I mourn the rape of Nature, for she is continually the victim of a species with eyes only for their desires in a constant power struggle. I mourn because Man wishes Control, absolute and unquestioned - and Nature wishes only to exist. She wishes for balance and Man takes that from her. I mourn because our Earth is now fighting for its life in the most basic of ways because humans have given it no other choice. But as it destroys our buildings - as it tears at the unfeeling materials we apply unreciprocated emotions to... the question uttered is "Why? Why us?" And then our Earth is blamed. Like a wild animal, meant to be free, shoved in a cage and pushed so far that it forgoes its natural instinct to run and instead attacks if only to be given a moments rest... Earth is blamed for seeking its reprieve.
This knowledge disgusts me.
It is the Energy that flows around us that tells me of times long ago. It is the Earth's way of communicating its pain. I must mourn for the simpler times because the Earth and Nature cannot. The must focus on survival, and in that fight they cannot weep for fallen comrades*; fallen friends or children destroyed by the species that swore to protect them. No, Earth and its Nature cannot pause - and so I must, because to do anything else is to dishonor the true warriors - the ones who die and fall into static each winter and rise again each spring with less room to make their homes. I cry for them, because no one else will, and I will not let their memories and efforts fall into a forgotten shadow. And through all of this?
I miss simpler times, and I miss sitting outside.