It has recently come to my attention that there is no longer any time.
Not that the mechanical tick tock of our clocks has ceased marking off the moments past, but rather globally, those of us who claim the title of 'civilized' may for little longer enjoy the luxury of our life-style.
We live in style; black gold powering horse-power, taking us to the market to CHOOSE what to eat, picked just for us to consume and relish.
Water delivered to our glass and our bath;
gas powering our lights and our stove;
we can do whatever we want, whenever we want~
Except scream in public.
We are free to eat and drink food and water poisoned with fluoride and dioxin;
But don't question this status quo.
We have a fine four walls to our sides, and a tar roof over our heads;
unless you don't work. Nothing is free, therefore how can we be?
Life has a price, a triplicate certificate encompassing birth, union, and death. The trees wittness our style as reams of waste paper shreaded and discarded.
Do we want this?
How much does it cost for me to die? Where will my body be hidden? How long will it remain seperate from the soil before tree roots finally penetrate my vault?
How long until there are no more trees?
A serious question; the archaeological review of the epochs chronicles a diverse array of shapes that nature takes in the long flowing of life through time. Trees are a novelty;
wasted they are dust, and a memory.
Water is a creche of that lovely dance that life does.
At what point did we each agree to renounce our stewardship and rely upon pillaging?
When were we severed from our roots?
It helps to name that insidious feeling of creeping death trembling on the dark fuzzy edges of our consciousness. We are like roses snipped from the mother bush~fragrant for a day, but how quickly we wilt without the wholeness of being rooted deep in the soil.
The winds roar across the desolations, momentous, unchecked; howling and heavy with the weight of so much death, and so little promise of renewal.
Can a metal wind chime truly replace the songs of birds?
Can the luxury of air-flight replace the awe in the sight of a great bird, circling?
Can we ever do enough to slow down, savor, and save?
We CAN.
Second world war:
poverty mentality. victory gardens. recycle everything.
coffee, chocolate, nylons, gasoline: LUXURY.
Save, recycle, reuse, savor.
There can be great joy in having little. The less we have, the more precious it becomes.
We have less life, less time, less bees, less future, less oil, less clean water.
We have fewer children born healthy, fewer freedoms.
We have little sanity;
but GREAT choice.
Do we choose the End, or do we plant the seeds needed for a new Beginning?