World Cry

Kenneth Mick III

November 22, 2013

What has happened to you and me,

Us, them, society?

From our Father’s path we’ve strayed,

And His creation we have set ablaze.

Listen now, you and I,

And attend the world’s cry.

Grinding gears, belching smoke,

Rumbling engines the forest approach.

Hacking brush, cutting trees,

While Gaia, reeling, bleeds.

On our hands and faces we smear the balms,

Oil spilt from Indonesian palms.

Hungry, we our senses cloy,

With countless piles of Brazilian soy.

Hear the monstrous churning wheels,

And metal beasts of cruelest steel.

Death, destruction – that we wreak,

Death, destruction – that we reap.

Daily our addiction grows,

Ever more black oil flows.

Feed the addiction, most inane.

Jam the needles in our veins.

The black fumes waft ever higher,

As we spread more muck and mire.

Spawning acidic, burning rain,

Hear Gaia screaming from the pain.

Father Time weeps at such great loss,

Of flora, fauna, mouse and moss.

He and Gaia lift their cries,

To their Father who reigns on high.

Longing, pleading, desperate they pray,

For the hopeful, redeeming day,

When their Creator will the world remake,

Free from the poison of that horrid Snake.

On that day He will His wrath unfurl,

And avenge His broken world.

His will look with burning gaze,

And consume our evil in a searing blaze.

What can save us from this terror,

Which we have brought on by our error?

Look, there, can you not see,

Upon a hill, upon a tree?

There the Creator His anger poured,

Upon the One He most adored.

The blood which from His veins has spilled,

That, that only, can free us from our guilt.

©2013, Kenneth Mick III

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