Article voiceover
Gaia's Dream
Man saw the earth
with all its ferns, glorious
dirt, gulls and terns,
autumns turned
to flickering winters
and on it he inscribed
a grid of numbers
and rules, latitudes
and long intervals
spent studying in brick
towers, enclosures
around danger,
mistrust walled off
for centuries, beliefs
buried beneath boulders,
anxieties too heavy
to shoulder alone.
In time, the vines
grew thick and wooden
on his roofs, roots
once hidden now bursting
through cracked pavement.
She turned in her bed
of wet mushrooms
and wave-lapped sunsets.
In one gentle breath
the age of man came
and went.Photo taken by Holly who writes beautifully over at Through the Looking Glass.
Oooh I feel it Mike! Somewhere between a blessing and a prayer. The undisturbed dust of silence will fall like a cloak upon the short epoch of man like an abandoned city left to be forgotten in the dregs of time. Taken back by the wild. Weeds, grass and trees slowly swallowing the evidence of existence. Their roots entwining the bones that feed them. In the wisdom of the dirt ,that comes to clean everything, new life always grows.
Will we leave ghosts?
Whew, that last verse! The way you captured the power in but a gentle breath of nature. And the visual! She turns, not because she is angry, but because turning is what one does. And yet that is how tiny and vulnerable humanity is; one gentle shift of nature, and it’s on to the next thing!