Show Notes
Slow down,
let your soul savour the few remaining pockets of pristine air
before they become too bitter and murky to inhale.
Sit here,
beneath the gentle shade of weary mature trees
before they are permanently gone,
felled to make paper houses that whither in the wind.
Stop for a moment,
to taste the fresh breezes rolling off the turquoise seas
before the waters turn grey
and whip up gales that drive shorelines to the bottom of the sea.
Rest a bit;
open your mind wide to let the brisk, fragrant dawns
tempt the mornings to kiss your skin's face
before the afternoons’ fury scorches the air
and turns young fields into deserts.
Eat slowly,
fill your stomachs for a rainy day
before the earth becomes parched and choke with salt water.
Allow the residual droplets of dew to cleanse your lungs
before the rains dry up and return as floods to eat hillsides, houses, and lives
then carry them to watery graves.
Stand up,
and hold your ground,
build strong fences around your children's dreams
before the lands beneath their feet shift and life slips away
to become just another footnote.
