No longer does the Sun
Turn green the royal palms
But bleaches skin to white.
Oceans spawn waves of dark plastic,
Rivers run black with oil.
Day is no longer wholesome;
Stars of night are seldom seen.
No gracious spirit stirs upon the land
And birds of dawn no longer sing.
What have we done with the promise?
There is wind,
But within the wind
Is not heard the Voice of God.
There is fire, but it consumes.
And the fire is not God.