There is a fog, a sky full of fumes, a blanket of artificial light–making it hard to sleep at night. My dreams are deep, but shallow enough to cause strain–light shinning through my eyelids, lack of melatonin flowing through my brain. So I sit and wonder, and imagine myself breathing breaths of clean air. I imagine food that is clean, free of harsh chemicals–a way of farming just and fair. I imagine an environment untouched, pristine and healthy–no logging or drilling to feed the greed of the over-wealthy. Yet in a world of pollution, there is still compassion for Mother Earth–no need to imagine love in this time of rebirth. The blue birds still sing–baby birds in a nest, big oak tree. The deer still roam–grazing field to field, as far as the eye can see. The rivers still flow– splashing against their banks, bringing water to you and me. The sun still shines– growing bountiful wild flowers, happy honey bees. There is a generation who cares, a generation of light–willing to heal our planet, not bicker and fight. The world is awakening, growing compassion, adjusting sight–no longer perception distorted, always pointing fingers in-spite. Hand in hand we shine together, doing what’s right– no longer feeling alone, that’s happiness of great height.
By Austin Green