Progress? There is a forest old as hillsides tall, majestic, dappled shades fall on ground beneath the silent gnarled defenders of the glade. There they stand in ancient splendour many souls have passed their way often used as welcome shelter from the heat of summers day. Sweet the air they breathe in chorus our lifes breath their lungs provide, soaking up our daily poison so that we may live and thrive. You seas of men intent to clear them citing progress, peddling greed tearing roots from precious mooring laying waste to natures seed. Rape the beauty of a landscape displace creatures for your need rupture fragile ecosystems scar the earth and watch it bleed. To you I ask a simple question, as I see the land bereaved. What need has man of all this progress when he can no longer breathe?
Posted on: Thu, 28 Aug 2014 05:54:39 +0000
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