While I write,
I wander through a beautiful word orchard,
Hoping to pick the right flowers.
While I write,
I witness the words blossom & perish,
Only to revive & recarnate in new forms.
While I write,
I notice the climate wreck havoc into the world,
Somewhere freezing & somewhere burning.
And, while I write….
I see the flora, the fauna, the earth crying.
Is it our sin for which they are dying?