There is a dilapidated mansion across the street,
Where there once stood trees,
On which birds sat and
A hive buzzed with bees.
A wanderer would have found shade here,
Or a monk would have sat in the glade.
A boy would have played hide & seek,
In the ever winding troughs of this creek.
But now it’s driven to abyss,
No remembrance, no mark.
The trunk moulded into furniture,
Or paper planes from its bark.
Men came here,
That’s for sure.
And tore up the forest,
For more and more.
They built a house,
Which now stands empty.
This is hunger,
Amidst of plenty.
What trance has plagued our mind ,
That even Earth can’t suffice.
It is not too late,
To overcome greed’s lice.
For precious nature,
It’s not apt to put a price