The land shines in the early morning dawn. Grass glows in
emeralds and limes , the trees leaves glimmer with rays of sunlight glittering
through the canopy and the worlds denizens
wake with birdsong. Look around and see the river water swirling bye, its
depths displaying the stones, the sand, the silver scaled fish or the fronds of
water plants. Then your eyes begin to see other things, a crisp packet, a
tangled fishing line, a piece of plastic
and empty chemical barrel, just lying there, tangled in the riverbanks
plants or floating on the early morning wind, caught in the banks along the
paths…….. and the joy of the day is marred.
Animals leave spore and footprints, occasionally the
evidence of a kill, man…………………… man leaves debris. It is a blot on the
landscape that reaches from shore to shore. No place is sacred. No height or
depth or surface is excluded, even our skies contain debris from mans burgeoning
space flight.
We are, a filthy race, an infestation of the worst kind,
because we take and take and rarely replace what we have taken..It offends me deeply, to see a beautiful view of our world 'decorated' with bits of plastic, paper, cast off material things. Offends and hurts me.
The blood and guts of mankind’s legacy is the 4 horsemen of
the apocalypse; war, famine, death, pestilence, and the fifth horseman rubbish.
Let us not forget rubbish.
When man has died its final death. When our species no
longer exists in any form our wars long ended, our famines no longer the
fearful experience of so many. When torture no longer has a person to
terrorise, when man is indeed dead and death has collected his final toll…..our
rubbish will remain.
Plastics that do not deteriorate, oils that refuse to
breakdown into something useful in the earth again. Metals twisted and tortured
into unnatural shapes, clays baked and glazed against times destruction's.
Materials made from unnatural fibres, Structured to defiance in their inability
to decompose. Built in obsolescence and lazy attitudes mean piles and piles of
rubbish and what isn’t gathered in piles is left to decompose where it falls.
Indeed even our words will litter the ether a testament to
our thoughts, our deeds, our once so vibrant lives with its inbuilt desire to
remain in the future in some kind of legacy, some kind of immortality. Our
words alone will not condemn us in the eyes of a future alien race of
intelligence. The images uploaded every second of every day are also preserved.
They too bear testament to what kind of being we are.
What catastrophes that mankind cannot cope with, cannot
overcome, are not man’s invention. We have, as a race, survived all that each
of us was capable of creating and using to the destruction of others. All for
territory, ideals, and our zeal to dominate and victor has never won ‘forever’,
there has always been an uprising, a rebellion, a rogue element of mankind’s
ability to survive almost all.
But our race cannot rule the wind, the wave, the fire of earth’s
core or the crack of an earthquakes whip. The four powers of Mother Nature that
our race recognises as factual, are without exception, the real terrors we
should be aware of, awake too, prepared for. But we are not and that will be
the saviour of Mother Earth.
What if Mother Earth , truly is a living being, what if the
oil we regularly plunder is her ‘blood’ the coolant of her body, what if her
nerves are the streams of gold and silver, tin and copper, what if her seas are
like the water in us…part of her body, swimming with the life she needs to
survive….is it so hard to imagine. She may think, those thoughts may take years
to evolve, she may have a cognate sense of her own life force being obliterated by
this race of beings, these ‘humans’ who believe they are the top of the
ecological chain…….and we are so wrong, and perhaps, she will decide that for
herself.
What other race of sentient beings fouls its nest, culls its
food to the point of obliteration? What other race of being kills for pleasure,
creates destructive energies to kill and maim, what other animal, for that is
all we truly are, what other animal, rapes and tortures for the fun of it,
hurts its own young, enslaves its own race for its own pleasures, its own
desires, not survival, not farming to survive, but to kill, to maim, to indulge
senses and desires that have no bearing on surviving.
She is powerful our Mother, we name this world a woman, we
recognise the interplay of natures delicate balances. We have as an entire race
of individuals recognised our inability to wage any kind of defence against the
true ruler of this world, itself.
An independent woman is Mother Earth, she can split her skin
and send thousands of mortal humans to their doom in one devastating
earthquake, spit her defiance in fire and brimstone, crash and slash us all
with winds so strong, so terrifyingly powerful that not one brick remains of
our creation and a line of trees will survive, the grass continues to grow and
the birds come back to sing the dawns chorus inside a day. She washes our
shores daily and in one moments shift, she can bring a tsunami to that same
shore and the blight of mans infestation is washed into a sea of tangled
everything that can takes years to clear away, but remains static in its
growth….she is watching us, and we are the fleas on her back and I do genuinely
believe she is going to do something about ‘us’ and we will be helpless against
her wrath.
