We are dead

Graceful in all that she is, beauty that endures so much pain.

A land that has lost all it's majesty,  burned by man that take it way.

So much pain so many tears rained down upon the land that's scathed by it's soon to be demise.

A mother and her cubs hold no fear though they ask 'why cheer when you clear a a path and rip through the land?'

Don't you feel their pain, hear their screams in the wind, see their blood spilled on the ground?

She cries and with her rain tears she passes light back to the foot hills, the white mountains, the plains and valleys.

How much longer can she take, we are not her owner, mother nature gives her best to protect all that is and ever will be.

We are the plague upon this land, the virus that keeps on spreading killing everything in our path no mater what is in the way.

She tells us every day 'soon your time will come too, for what man does to beast the world does to man.'

If the plants are dead, we can't breath.

If the animals are dead we can eat.

If the water is gone we can't drink, and if we keep going like this we are dead.